Dealing With Insanity
by ThatOneGingerKid
Summary: Matthew is having a normal day, getting beat up by classmates for looking like his trouble-making brother Alfred, but will a certain Prussian swaggering in accept that? And can Matthew handle his insanity? (Doubtful.)
1. Not a Normal Day Anymore

**This is my first FanFic, reviews/suggestions welcome! Enjoy, children!**

* * *

~Matthew P.O.V.~

Matthew was resting his forehead against his arms folded on the desk before him. He was trying desperately to force air into his (what felt like they were dented) lungs– unsuccessfully, I'm afraid. _Carlos must've been pretty mad at Al about something._ He thought weakly.

~Señor Flashback~

_Matthew burst in the school panting heavily, wondering what possessed his brother Alfred to think it was a good idea to unplug his alarm clock. Probably the only time Al ever remembered him was either to pull pranks on him or ask for a favor. He doubled over, hands resting on his knees, struggling to remember what breathing felt like. Matthew knew his hands were shaking slightly, in his mad dash to get to school he hadn't time to eat breakfast. _Alfred, you hoser!_ Matthew thought as he wiped sweat from his face with his sleeve. _You owe me pancakes!

_"Oy! Jones!"_

_Matthew sighed. It was all too common for others to mistake him for his older brother Alfred. Which was bad for several reasons. Apparently they looked so alike to the point of his psuedo-parents completely forgetting anyone named Matthew existed on occasion. The first (and main) reason having a face similar to Alfred's was that he made enemies at school. Lots of them. Strong ones. Most everyday. People at school who were a victim of Alfred's "heroic" pranks often ended up beating his weaker doppelgänger up instead. So Matthew wasn't too thrilled about being called out in his brother's surname. When he looked up, he saw a very familiar Cuban student who had made a bad habit of confusing his friend Matthew for his obnoxious American brother and shoving him around in lieu of the actual perpetrator. He gave a shy wave and greeted "Hey, Carlos."_

_"Don't 'Hey Carlos' me, _tu hijo de puta_!" Matthew cringed. What had Al done this time?_

_"L-listen," Matthew began nervously, cursing his soft voice. "It's Matthew, Al is already in class."_

_"I know it's you, _idiota_! I'm not stupid!" Carlos stomped nearer the Canadian with a distinctive look of murder in his eyes._

_Matthew slowly started to back up, getting scared. "Carlos, I swear it's me M–" but was cut off by the Cuban grabbing his throat._

_"Did you read think you could just post those pictures? Huh?" he growled furiously and shook the blonde in his grasp, lifting him off the ground momentarily. Matthew attempted to speak but was prevented by both the hand that restricted air to his lungs and Carlos shouting at him again. "You think it's funny, don't ya, _cabrón_?"_

_Matthew suddenly was rammed against the nearest lockers and felt hard metal locks digging into his spine. His eyes brimmed with tears but refused to let them fall. Carlos gave his throat one final squeeze before releasing him to watch Matthew slide onto the ground and gasp for air. As he fought for oxygen, he suddenly felt himself sideways on the floor with an ebbing throb on his cheek. He didn't need to wonder what happened. . . He'd been punched before but it still hurt like hell. Still on the dirty tiled floor, Carlos continued to hit the blonde until he was sure his face would swell bigger than his head. Matthew looked up to his attacker from his lying position with a silent plea and hoped that he might recognize him as Matthew._

_Carlos was currently looking on with pleasure as "Alfred" squirmed in pain and begged him with his eyes to stop. He could only grin and watch the blonde fight off tears. Just before he left "Alfred" to writhe, he bent down and whispered "Remember this next time you try to screw with me." and landed one last well-placed kick to the ribs before strutting away. Carlos had to admit, it felt _great_ to finally dish out what Alfred had deserved. _Revenge feels awesome_, he decided while ignoring the niggling doubt in the back of his mind._

_Matthew held his stomach and curled in the fetal position on the floor until it no longer felt like he was going to vomit or pass out. Slowly, he sat up and grabbed his backpack that was thrown aside haphazardly in the scuffle. He pulled himself up with the aid of the locker handles and trudged to class._

~to the present~

Matthew already knew that his right cheek was starting to swell and more than likely bruise. This wasn't the first time he'd been kicked around and it wouldn't be the last (knowing Al). Anyone else would probably March right up to Alfred and tell him to quit acting like his usual idiot self and pissing people off– there was no doubt that Matthew was the one getting the full runt of the attacks meant for his brother –or go to the discipline office and demand something be done.

. . .but not Matthew. He sighed– despite how much it hurt –knowing exactly how this all would go down. Carlos would come up to Matthew at some point in the day and apologize for beating him up, Matthew would forgive him– he cursed his Canadian roots for his politeness –and Carlos would buy him ice cream as an apology. With just the attacker varying, the cycle would repeat most every school day. He doubted much would ever change.

Narrator: Aw, but Mattie, we would have no story if nothing was going to change!

* * *

~Gilbert P.O.V.~

Gilbert grinned as he approached his homeroom, fashionably late. _Time to grace these people with mein awesome presence!_

Kicking open the door awesomely, Gilbert swaggering in and shouted "AWESOMENESS HAS ARRIVED!"

While most people either snickered or rolled their eyes at his antics, the teacher Mr. Edelstein just spoke as if Gilbert had smily walked in like a normal human being. "Take a seat, Mr. Beilschmidt."

Gailbert sauntered towards the open seat at the back, winking back at the professor. "You got it, Roddy!" **[A/N: Roderich would like to mention that his name is ****_not_**** "Roddy".]** To which the teacher shook his head, disappointed and fearing for the future generations, and continued teaching Algebra II.

Upon reaching the desk, Gilbert dropped his backpack on the floor and flopped into the empty seat dramatically. He noticed the person in the seat to his left had their head down on the desk, probably asleep. It bothered him that the kid was ignoring his raw awesomeness and not paying homage to his glory. For whatever reason, Gilbert couldn't remember their name. He frowned. _Come on, brain! I'm sure I know _**_everyone_**_._ He looked down and to his disdain the mystery student's face was covered by the enormous red sleeves of a hoodie. The only thing shown was some wavy caramel hair and an odd errant curl peaking out in the front. Gilbert had the sudden inexplicable urge to pull it. His hand crept forward silently, but apparently not as stealthily as he thought because the head turned away from him, pulling the curl out of his reach. This only made Gilbert even more determined to touch it.

"Mr. Beilschmidt!" a voice called Gilbert's attention up front where an irritated teacher stood. "If you would kindly pay attention, maybe you could pass my class."

Gilbert smirked. "Actually, _Roddy_," the professor's jaw clenched slightly at the nickname. "I was just asking. . .er," Gilbert looked over quickly in an attempt to find his desk partner's name somewhere, but all he saw was a cute fluffy bird drawing on a red backpack under the chair. "_Birdie_ here to help me with the classwork."

Roderich cossed his arms in annoyance. "There's no one even there, Mr. Beilschmidt. Think of a better lie next time."

Gilbert assumed he couldn't see the student with their head down, so he grabbed an arm clad in bright red and waved it in the air without its owner's consent. "Birdie's present and accounted for, Roddy."

"I'm going to assume this is some kind of joke, Gilbert." Everyone who had Mr. Edelstein as a teacher knew when he called you by your first name, he meant business. Not that Gilbert cared. "Stop drawing attention to yourself so we can continue."

Gilbert could feel himself getting more frustrated. The (so-called) Prussian grabbed the student's shoulders and hoisted him up so there was no way the teacher could overlook the teen. "_This person_," he gesticulated wildly toward the one beside him. "You can't see this person _right here?_"

Roderich's eyebrow's furrowed, concentrating straight in the blonde's direction. Gilbert thought _Can he seriously not see the teenager in a bright red hoodie and one big curl in his hair?_ After a belated moment, the teacher's eyes widened and he looked embarrassed. "Oh! So sorry, Mr. . ." he looked confused again and Gilbert's mouth gaped. _First he can't see him, then Roddy can't even remember his own student's name?_

"Williams. . ." a weak voice supplied to his left.

"WILLIAMS!" Gilbert announced, acting as a megaphone for the soft-spoken blonde.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Williams," Roderich said awkwardly, not looking at all like he knew his name in the first place. "Would Mr. Beilschmidt and. . .um. . .you please return to your seats?"

Gilbert grudgingly sat back down. He looked over to "Birdie" who had already put his head back down. "Hey!" he whispered fiercely. "Birdie!"

The one next to him mumbled into his jacket, but Gilbert could just make out the words "leave me alone".

_Seeing as he wasn't wanted, Gilbert calmly turned back to the teacher and listened to the rest of the lesson._

Narrator: HAHAHAHA! Yeah, right~!

"Gilbert sontinued to poke at the teen, whispering directly into his ear. "Birdiebirdiebirdiebirdiebird iebirdiebirdiebirdiebirdiebi –"

"_WHAT?_" The blonde's head snapped up to glare at the one nonstop annoying him as he whispered back furiously.

Gilbert fought the urge to gasp. The little Birdie's wavy caramel hung just below his chin, framing his soft face perfectly, and the one rebellious curl waved just in front of his face tauntingly. He had such soft feminine features (not quite to the point that he looked like a girl, though) that the attempted glare just looked adorable– like a puppy trying to look fierce. His eyes, though, made Gilbert question his eyesight– his irises were such a rich navy blue that in the light they almost looked violet. But what made Gilbert feel slightly sick to his stomach was the red puffy eyes that made the cute little Birdie seem like he was crying, and a darkening green-purple bruise violating his cheek. It looked so. . . ._wrong_. Gilbert unconsciously felt himself getting both upset and angry at the same time.

"Oh _mein gott_, what happened?" He whispered, reaching over to touch the bruise.

Birdie jerked away from his hand. "N-nothing. It was an accident. I fell."

Gilbert suddenly wanted to know exactly what had happened. Wait. . . Why did he all of a sudden care about someone else? Why would the random blonde kid matter to him in the slightest? The most awesome person in the universe shouldn't have to care about strangers. But all Gilbert knew was that his hand was moving over to touch Birdie's arm (comfortingly?) without his consent. Birdie shuffled under his touch and a few fingers gently brushed against the red material on his chest accidentally. Unwittingly, Gilbert just made sore ribs start to ache all over again and the Canadian clutched at his chest, trying to use pure willpower to cease the tear-jerking pain, doubled over.

Contrary to popular belief, Gilbert was not as stupid as people might think. He quickly connected the bruise, the stuttering, unwillingness to show his face, and the crippling pain in his stomach until everything clicked.

_"No!"_ Gilbert screamed, seemingly out of the blue, bolting out of his chair.

Everyone turned to him curiously. Roderich was furious. Birdie looked at him worriedly. "What now?" Roderich spat between gritted teeth as Birdie quietly asked "Are you okay, Gilbert?"

The only thing going through Gilbert's mind was _This is unacceptable!_ He pointed to the blonde and shouted _"This man needs medical attention!"_ but before anyone could ask "_Who_?", Gilbert bent down and scooped Birdie into his arms, carrying him bridal-style.

Birdie flushed a lovely shade scarlet and started to say "W-what are you–" but Gilbert had already broke out in a run.

* * *

~Matthew P.O.V.~

Without any warning whatsoever, Gilbert ran through the classroom door with Mr. Edelstein souting for him to "get back here this instant!" Gilbert didn't seem all that concerned with the threats of suspension. (Why was Matthew not surprised?)

Matthew looked up and saw determination set in the albino's features. Red eyes flickered down to the Canuck, a smirk playing across his lips, and Matthew realized he had been staring. He blushed, remembering he was in Gilbert's arms.

Several questions prodded for Matthew's attention, _How can he see me?_, _How did he not forget me already?_, _Why does he care about me?_, but he settled for: "W-what are y-you doing?"

"WE ARE GOING TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM!" Gilbert declared proudly, his loud voice reverberating through the empty halls. His tone suggested that there would be no debating the matter.

_Oh, maple._ Matthew thought _How am I supposed to deal with this insanity?_

* * *

**So, what thinkest thou? Should I continue? Review please!**

**Until next time, mein children!**

**~Ginge**


	2. Gilbert Full-on Attacks Matthew

**Hello children! **

**First of all, I am absolutely overwhelmed by the amount of positive feedback! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzily inside to know that people like what I wrote. It's my children that keep me writing~ *sobs***

**Prussia: Get it together, Ginge! *SLAP***

**Thanks, I needed that. Okay, but I would like to thank my lovely followers and reviews! This one is for my children:**

Bleachedwolfrest

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**Let your names be forever immortalized in chapter 2 of Dealing With Insanity!**

**Enjoy, children~!**

**(bee-tee-dubs, the things in brackets are author's commentary)**

* * *

****Chapter 2:

Gilbert Full-on Attacks Matthew

* * *

~Matthew P.O.V.~

Unfortuneately, Gilbert stayed true to his word and carried Matthew all the way to the nearest hospital (ignoring his captive's protests) and ran in all the while shouting "Nurse! Nurse! My friend needs a doctor immediately!"

"Gilbert," Matthew cried, thoroughly embarrassed, trying to get the albino's attention. "I'm fine! It's just a little stomach pain!" He was still denying all the accusations Gilbert threw at him on their way over. No, it was not aliens, possession (someone was sounding like Alfred now), or terrorists (what?), but as long as he did not know about Carlos, Matthew should be fine.

"Your stomach?" Confused, Gilbert paused a moment before starting to yell again. "GOOD GOD MY FRIEND IS PREGNANT!"

"_What_?" Matthew's squeak went unnoticed, though, as his captor began sprinting down one of the halls and called for a doctor to take "Birdie" to the ER. "Gilbert, you can't just walk in unless it's an emergency."

"Birdie!" He said with an air of disappointment as he slowed down to look at the Canadian in his arms. "This _is_ an emergency! Someone dared to bully _mein kleine_ Birdie!"

Matthew paled. _He. . .knows?_

But before he could question the albino, he had already kept on running. "Doctor! Help! Someone's pregnanted my Birdie!"

Matthew flushed from pure embarrassment. _Just what is wrong with this guy?_

~Monsieur Timeskip :{D~

After another ten minutes of Gilbert running around with Matthew in his arms and yelling, the two had been escorted into a room where Gilbert had been assured Matthew would be attended to.

While their doctor, Dr. D, checked out the injuries pot Matthew's ribs and face and his swollen neck, Gilbert held his hand, claiming that he was "too awesome to let Birdie go through such a hard time alone".

Writing something down on a clipboard, Dr. D smiled at the blonde. "We'll Matthew, you have a few bruised ribs and slight swelling on both your chest and neck, but nothing to worry about. For your ribs, I want you to take Motrin as needed, apply an ice pack wrapped in a towel to reduce your swelling, and try to limit any strenuous activity for at least the next one to three days. If you hurt yourself further, you could give yourself a hairline fracture." Matthew swallowed. _How am I going to keep from getting beat up for _three whole days_? It's only Tuesday!_

Matthew heard sniffling and looked over to see: Gilbert _crying_? What. . .the—?

"Give it to me straight, Doc." The albino let out a choked sob. "How long's Birdie got?"

Matthew mentally face-palmed, but the doctor just chuckled.

"Oh, I'd say Mr. Williams has the rest of his life. He'll be just fine." She smiled.

"Oh, Birdie!" Gilbert squealed and hugged him, being careful of his ribs. "_Gott sei Dank_! I thought that you were a goner!" Wiping his eyes of tears, Gilbert took "his Birdie's" hand again.

Dr. D smiled again and turned to Matthew with a slip of paper. "Here are the steps to treating your ribs and swelling, and suggestions for pain relief medication. Also, keep your little friend on a leash. He's a potential danger to himself and anyone in his near vicinity."

Matthew nodded. He was aware of Gilbert's. . .er. . ._talents_ of discord. In just the hour that Matthew knew the albino, he had disrupted class, kidnapped Matthew, almost caused a traffic accident by running in the _middle of an intersection_ (nearly giving Matthew an aneurism), announced to an entire hospital that Matthew was pregnant, failed to hurdle and knocked over an elderly lady—with a very colorful vocabulary—in a wheelchair, and spilled a box full of syringes across the floor. The Canadian would have to keep an eye on _that guy_ if he valued his life or wanted to have any places left in the city that wouldn't/hadn't ban him. He was lucky that the hospital had not already kicked the duo out or callfor the police for disturbing the peace as it is.

The doctor left with a wink like she knew something the blonde didn't. He turned to Gilbert who currently wore a puzzled expression.

"'your little friend'?" Matthew's palm. . .meet his face. Something tells me you two will get well acquainted over the next while (or at least as long as Gilbert sticks around). Gilbert's jaw dropped and he suddenly grabbed Matthew's arm, shaking it frantically. "I knew it! You _are_ pregnant! WHO IS THE FATHER!?"

_Slap._

The albino gasped and a crazy smile broke out on his face. "Will you name him after me?"

_SLAP_ That one ought to leave a mark. . .

"Gilbert, I can assure you with one-hundred-percent certainty that I am not pregnant."

He just nodded solemnly. "_Denial_. That's a smart route. You really don't want the daddy to know, do you Birdie?"

_Slap._ "Yes Gilbert, that is _exactly_ why I deny being pregnant—not because I'm male and it is biologically impossible, but because I supposedly don't want the fictional father of my fake child to know about it.

"You caught me, Gilbert." He deadpanned.

Gilbert sighed heavily like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and looked at Matthew seriously. "I knew it."

_SLAP_

Now that the Canadian's forehead was nice and red from the good amount of face-palming, Matthew was more than ready to escape and save his poor, suffering face. He started to hop down from the uncomfortable paper-covered bed and leave when Gilbert stopped him with a hand on his wrist. He looked at the blonde with what _seemed_ to be an innocent-looking smile, but had a twinkle of mischief. Matthew sighed. He was getting used to that expression much too quickly for a certain Canadian's taste.

Gilbert could barely hold in the grin as he asked "honestly", "When are you gonna start showing?" But before Birdie could form a reply, the albino snatched and lifted up the hem of his victim's shirt and placed a hand on his stomach.

Matthew struggled to keep his expression neutral as frigid air conditioning and a stranger's palm hit his unsuspecting skin but was useless against the giggle that escaped his lips from the touch. He instantly covered his mouth and backed up, leaving a slightly confused Gilbert.

"C-come on, Gilbert. We still have school for the rest of the day today." As he headed for the door Matthew sent a quick prayer to the gods of the idiots to make Gilbert forget entirely about the traitorous laugh. _Who knows what Gilbert would do if he found out I'm super—_

"Are you ticklish Birdie?"

_Maple! Oh, maple-hockey-Celine-Dion-polar-bears! Okay, okay, calm down Matt, grace under pressure!_ "N-no. . ." _Maple!_

A concerning silence ensued and Matthew was an odd mixture of hopeful (that he wouldn't care), terrified (that he _would_), and curious (as to what was taking so long for Gilbert to reply). Slowly turning about, Matthew saw the very last thing he ever wanted to see—alongside an empty bottle of maple syrup—a quite obvious (which was so much scarier than when he would disguise it under an innocent smirk) malicious grin and a look in his eye that screamed "_RUN, YOU FOOL!_" Gilbert crept forward and held his hands up in a prime ticking position. Matthew needed to further inventive to book it out of there before the Prussian glomped him.

He ran through the halls of the hospital and ignored the nurses that said something to the affect of "No running, this is a hospital!" most likely directed to the other of the two (the one that was not "invisible") when he heard eerie, sing-songy calls of_ "Birdie~"_ ringing through hallways with unusually good acoustics.

Matthew began sprinting even faster when Gilbert called, sounding creepily close to him, "I'm going to get you, _mein_ Birdie~!" Using whatever strength the somewhat weak **[****Matthew****: "Hey!" *slaps author* ****Ginge****: TT_TT "sorry. . ." ****Matthew****: "No you're not." ****Ginge****: "Yeah, I'm really not!"]** Canadian had left, Matthew got a burst of energy and ran ahead of the persuer. He rounded a corner and threw open the door of the first room he saw—he closed the door as swiftly and quietly as humanly possible and covered his ,outh with both hands to silence his heavy breathing. Matthew waited until he heard running steps pass by and fade away. Sighing, Matthew glanced around to figure out where he was—a janitor's closet?—and sat on the floor in the corner.

_How long should I wait before leaving?_ He wondered, slowing his breath. _I certainly do not want to run into Gilbert after spending so much time hiding from him. . _. Matthew was so absorbed in pondering this that he almost did not notice the door open. His first thought was: _Oh no, the janitor will think I'm some kind of punk stealing stuff! I'm too young to go to prison!_ (Okay, so Matthew tended to overreact a little.)

"Oh I am so soory sir I did not mean to barge right in I swear I had no intention of stealing or anything like that I was just hiding from my friend who was chasing me and I suppose I should just go. . ." Matthew stood to leave awkwardly.** [Who needs punctuation?]**

"I found you, _mein kleine_ Birdie~!"

Matthew froze. "M-maple."

In the doorway stood Gilbert, with an expression looking too much like his cousin Francis's "rape face" **[Francis claims that this so-called "rape face" is his normal expression.**] (his cousin who hits on everything on two legs with a pulse—and even _that_ was giving him credit) and Matthew could practically feel an anxiety attack coming on.

* * *

~Gilbert P.O.V.~

Gilbert watched with sadistic intent as Birdie stood stiffly, mouth agape. Gilbert imagined Birdie was thinking something along the lines of: _Oh god of maple syrup! The sexy Gilbert of awesomeness wants to tickle me! Oh how my existence would be made awesome from his fingers' touch alone, eh!_ **[Imagine a Canadian accent.]** But all Gilbert could really think about was how nice Birdie looked when he laughed—much better than him crying. Gilbert was considering calling him by his given name, Matthew, but when he heard that little chirping laugh it was decided definitely that he would eternally be Birdie. There was not doubt now that the Canadian was his Birdie.

Gilbert took a step forward and help up his hands, making his voice low and serial-killer-esque. "Time for. . _.The Tickling_."

Birdie started to panic. "P-please Gilbert, don't!"

A step forward.

Gilbert shook his head, keeping his expression grave. "It's too late Birdie. The Tickling has already begun."

Another step.

"Gilbert, I mean this seriously. If you tickle me I am not responsible if I accidentally hurt you."

Step.

Gilbert wasn't sure if Birdie was being serious about that warning or not, but curiosity had taken over and Gilbert was powerless against the desire to tickle him. He pounced on the Canadian, who emitted a surprised yelp, and pinned him to the floor.

"Eeep!"

Gilbert wasted no time in attacking his stomach and sides. Birdie laughed hysterically and his face turned red, Gilbert couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. _Yeah, I'm so awesome that I can make him laugh!_ **[This is molestation, Gilbert. It counts as neither legitimate laughter nor ****_"l'amour~"_**** (somewhere Francis is sneezing)]** Birdie weakly tried to push the Prussian off of him, much to his assaulter's amusement. In one fluid motion, Gilbert slid off Birdie's shoe and tickled the bottom of his foot. As if an instinct his foot kicked out, hitting Gilbert in the chest.

Birdie instantaneously erupted in (giggle-ridden) apologies. "Oh my gaw-_hah_-sh Gilbert -_hah_- I'm s-_hah_-so sor-_hah_-sorry!"

"I brought it on myself." Gilbert grumbled and winced imperceptibly. _Heilige Scheiße Birdie! You've got some kick!_

Then suddenly. . .

_"And I'm proud to be an American~!_

_"Where at least I know I'm free~!"_ rang through the quiet.

"Th-that's A-_hah_-Alfred!" Birdie gasped, reaching for a cell phone that had slipped from his pocket.

Hesitantly, Gilbert got off of him **[You were lying on top of him, Gilbert? You dirty pervert.]** to allow Birdie to answer the call.

"Hello, Matthew speaking." He said (well, _whispered_, really) breathlessly into the speaker.

An obnoxious voice emanated through the phone. _"Haaaaaaaaaaaaaay Mattie! Where aaaaare yoooooooou?"_

"Oh, I'm—"

_"You weren't in Sanchez's claa~aass, broha!"_ The voice (Alfred, was it?) interrupted impatiently.

Birdie's expression grew joyful. "Y-you noticed I wasn't in class?" Gilbert was legitimately surprised. _He's happy because his brother saw that he wasn't in class? If I missed, I would make sure everyone knew about it._

_"Of course!"_ The loud voice laughed. _"The HERO needs someone to do his homework! Ha-ha!"_

His Birdie's face fell. "Oh, yeah, I suppose. . ."

Gilbert's fists clenched. _Who dares to make _mein kleine_ Birdie sad?! And using him like this to do their homework? Brother or not, un-for-freaking-givable!_

"I'll probably get back to school in—" But then Gilbert snatched the phone away and started to talk to whoever was on the other end.

"_Hallo Dummkopf_, who is this?"

If the voice was at all deterred by the stranger talking into the line or being called an idiot in German, it didn't show. _"This is the hero, Alfred F. Jones! Who's this?"_

"Gilbert."

* * *

~Alfred P.O.V.~

Alfred had called his brother with the intention of getting the answers to the class work. The hero sure was lucky that Mattie had history with him—truth be told, Alfred was completely lost in US History! As far as he was concerned, America was totally the hero and all the other countries should just be back-up!

So when some dude _not_ Mattie started talking, he was confused. First he wasn't at school then someone Alfred didn't recognize had his bro's phone? Weird! "This is the hero, Alfred F. Jones! Who's this?" _Who's hangin' with Mattie?_ As far as he knew, his little bro didn't have any friends! Ya know, other than that demon polar bear, Kuma-whateverhisname. That thing frickin _hated_ him! Yeah, he almost ran it over on accident this one time, so what?

_"Gilbert."_ He answered simply.

Alfred swallowed. He seriously hoped it wasn't Gilbert _Beilschimidt_. That guy was infamous around school for throwing these huge parties, being all popular and crap, alcoholic, and certifiably insane. Why in the Star-Spangled Banner would someone like that chill with Mattie? No offense, but the little dude was kind of a loner. **[****Matthew****: *ahem* ****_offense taken_****!]** Whatever the reason, though, if Beilschmidt was hanging around his lil bro—he'd better back off! ". . .Beilschmidt?"

_"Ja."_

Alfred grit his teeth. "What are you doing with my bro?" He poured as much venom as he could into the one sentence.

_"Hmm. . ."_ The American could practically _hear_ the mocking smirk. _"Well, let's see!"_

There was faint static of something (probably the phone) moving around, then Mattie's quiet voice came through the speaker again.

_"Gilbert? W-what are you. . .?"_ Then there was a shrill shriek. _"A-ah! Gil— s-stop! _Eek! _It—ah!—stop!"_

Alfred's grip on the phone tightened until he was sure he heard the screen crack. "Beilschmidt!" he screamed. "Don't you _dare_ touch Mattie!" In his peripherals Alfred could barely see passers by staring at the blonde teen who had gone from confused to livid screaming in 0.5 seconds.

A chuckle could be heard on the other end. _"Well I'm pretty sure I can do what I want."_ Then another yelp.

"That's it, Beilschmidt!" he growled. "I'm coming for you— prepare to get your **&:)** kicked from here to kingdom come!" Violently pressing the "End Call" button, Alfred started up the app that traced his family's cell phones (what Mattie had called the "stalker app") to figure out where Mattie and. . ._he_ were.

His heart felt like it skipped a beat when the little blue dot located Mattie's cell at St. Noble Hospital.

"Alfred, mate, are you alright? You look rather pale." Someone with British accent asked.

Alfred turned to see his friend Arthur and those monster eyebrows of his (affectionately known as Iggy-Brows) looking at him concernedly. Arthur and he had a strange friendship—they could get into fistfights and insult each other's every fault one minute and the next go out for lunch—but they were always there for one another.

"No! I'm not! Mattie is out there with some insane demon guy and I'm flippin' out 'cause it sounded like he was attacking Mattie and I'm _flippin' out, man_!" Alfred shouted in one breath.

"Alfred, Alfred," Arthur said soothingly, holding his palms out as if that would pacify him. "Settle down. Now, do you know where they are?"

The American started to panic again. "The _hospital_!"

Arthur's reaction was instantaneous. He took Alfred's arm and headed straight for the office. "Iggy? Where're we goin'?"

Instead of correcting his friend that his name was not "Iggy" as he usually did, Arthur replied calmly "Getting a pass to leave school. We are going to the hospital."

Alfred grinned. He hadn't even _thought_ of that! Iggy always get better at staying calm in tense situations. He fist pumped. "Yeah~! This's why you're my best friend, Iggy!"

"Wanker! (Aw, it's Arthur's nickname for Alfred!) My name is Arthur!"

* * *

~Gilbert P.O.V.~

"Well that was fu~n!" Gilbert giggled (awesomely! It was a very manly giggle).

"Yeah. . ." Birdie sighed, sounding exhausted from the amount of laughing he'd been subjected to. He looked up into The Awesomeness's eyes and his cheeks tinted pink. "C-could you please get off me, eh?" he requested quietly.

"Huh?" was his brilliant response. Then Gilbert realized that he was straddling the little Canadian's hips. After that Gilbert certainly did NOT blush! He just. . .got a hot flash from the heating system! [Of course you didn't, Gilbert.] "Sure." He sat back and passed the cell over to its owner who started to sit up.

Birdie gave a shy smile. "Thanks."

And Gilbert most definitely did _not_ stutter from the pure cute smile! "Y-yeah. . ." **[****Gilbert****: "HEY!" *slaps Ginge* ****Ginge****: "Hahaha, what? I didn't put anything that's not true!" ****Gilbert****: "..."]**

"I don't think that was such a good idea, Gilbert." The blondes mumbled.

Gilbert felt his head cock. "What?"

"Teasing Al like that." Birdie shook his head, making that curl swish mockingly.

He just snickered and waved a hand dismissively, completely carefree. "Nah, it's fine. What'll that guy _really_ do?"

* * *

~Matthew P.O.V.~

Matthew sure hoped that the albino knew what he was getting himself into.

Has Matthew mentioned that when Al actually remembered his brother, he was ridiculously protective of him? And that he was captain of the football team and head quarterback? Lets just hope that Gilbert would not find that out the hard way.

* * *

**Translations: (German)**

**_mein kleine_ - my little**

**_Gott sei Dank_ - Thank God**

**_Heilige Scheiße_ - Holy crap**

**_Hallo Dummkopf_ - Hello idiot**

**_Ja_ - yes**

**Whew! I finally got that posted! Now I know what you're probably thinking: ****_This kid is a beast! How did Ginge get two chapters out in two days?_**

**Well, first of all: I have no friends. No, seriously. Okay, that's not totally true. My two friends didn't want to hang out with me. TT_TT**

**Second, it's Thanksgiving Break for my American people! When school starts up again I will try to get at the most a chapter per week, but I'll do the best I can!**

**Censoring Alfred's mouth courtesy of Matthew!**

**Matt: *shrugs* "What! Al needs to tone down his language!"**

**Al: "What the %# are you talkin' about? My language is £*$ fine!"**

**Matt: ". . . I rest my case."**

**PS- This is NOT a PruCan fic! Hence the "friendship" label! Buuuuuuut~ I may or may not make romance fics eventually~ ;D**

**I apologize for any OOCness! Review please! Stay tuned for the next chapter in which Gilbert discovers how strong a football player is! (Get your mind out of the gutter, yaoi fans!)**

**~Ginge**


	3. Matthew Doesn't Know He's Beautiful

**Hallo mein children!**

**Hope my American friends had a good Thanksgiving!**

**I don't really have all that much to say other than thank you for your patronage. . .also, I may have forgotten the disclaimer.**

**Disclaimer: Hidekaz Himaruya owns me.**

**Warning: touching moments (aww), (edited) swearing, and random musical numbers.**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

~Matthew P.O.V.~

Sighing from exhaustion, Matthew lied back down. "I hate being tickled." he muttered to himself. "It's like being raped only you're forced to laugh."

Gilbert threw his head back and laughed heartily, causing the Canadian to flush lightly. _He actually heard me?_ Matthew scrutinized the albino in question, thinking hard. _Come to think of it, Gilbert noticed me, he hasn't forgotten me _once_ since we met, actually cared that I'm being bullied– WAIT!_ Matthew suddenly recalled what Gilbert had said to him walking into the hospital.

_"Someone dared to bully _mein kleine_ Birdie!"_

. . .how does he know about that?

"Ah, Birdie!" Gilbert sighed suddenly, snapping Matthew out of his daze.

"Eh?" he replied (unintentionally showing his Canadian roots) as he sat up and crossed his legs Indian-style.

Gilbert plopped himself down by the Canadian, stretching his legs out in front of the two, and leaned back, popping himself up on his arms. His head lulled back lazily and rolled his neck sideways to look at him, smirking. "You're funny, Birdie. Why don't you talk more at school?

This made Matthew look down uncomfortably and twiddle with the frayed ends of his Chucks' shoelaces. **[The aglets got torn off.]** He didn't meet the Prussian's curious gaze but instead chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his lips, starting to form canker sores he would surely regret later. He whispered more for himself than to actually answer his companion's innocent enough question. "It's because I'm invisible."

* * *

~Gilbert P.O.V.~

_"Invisible"_? Just what did that mean? Birdie couldn't have _really_ meant that people can't see him. That didn't make any sense! There's no way that people seriously would _see through_ him, right?

But. . .didn't Roddy just think that him talking to Birdie was a joke? When he grabbed the blonde and made him stand up, even with the XL bright (almost neon) red hoodie and one big curly-Q in the front of his hair, Rodds acted like the kid wasn't even there! Also, Roddy didn't know his name then just forgot it about three seconds later. After all that, Birdie looked like he was acted to it. Really! You don't just _get used to_ others ignoring and forgetting you especially when you're standing right in front of them! That just isn't fair, he didn't deserve being treated like that. Did Birdie honestly feel like he was invisible?

Well Gilbert would just have to change that, wouldn't he?

Gilbert grinned and threw an arm around the Canuck's shoulders. "Well since that is complete and utterly unacceptable, I've decided that the Awesome Me'll be your best friend. No, better than that. . . I'll be your super mega bestest friend! I will make sure that you will _never_ be forgotten again!"

Birdie looked up at him, shocked. "W-what? Are y-you s-serious?"

The Awesome felt somewhat insulted– did Birdie really think that he was just messing with him or something? –but also partly confused– this kid acted like he had no friends at all!

"U-um," Did he just just stutter saying 'um'? Gilbert resisted the awesome urge to chuckle at how unintentionally adorable Birdie was, but said nothing when he saw the serious look on his face. "if y-you don't really w-want to do that, d-don't feel like you have t-to. It's f-fine. . ." The despondent expression on his Birdie's face before he turned away just about broke Gilbert's (black! It is so black and hardened it makes charcoal look like a Care Bear! **[Of course, Gilbert.]**) heart.

Gilbert used his free hand to guide Birdie's chin to look at him. "Birdie, I can honestly say that I really want to hang out with you and no one's going to convince me otherwise. I can tell that you're a sweet kid, secretly funny, smart **[Well ****_yeah_****, Gilbert, of the two of you he was the one who recognized that an Impala going at 50 miles per hour would, surprisingly, kill you.]**, and– dare I say –_awesome_."

"N-no I'm not. . ." He fumbled with the sleeves of his hoodie, looking away from the albino.

Gilbert frowned and flicked Birdie on the nose. "You shouldn't sell yourself short, Birdie. You _are_ awesome! (Not as awesome as me, but I digress) Don't let anyone tell you differently."

The Canadian cried out in pain and covered the end of the assaulted appendage. "What was _that_?"

"A pep-talk, and a pretty awesome one at that!" Gilbert laughed as if to say _Oh you silly~!_

* * *

~Matthew P.O.V.~

Matthew shook his head. _Why me?_ He cried internally.

Ready to wait outside for the brother that was undoubtedly racing over to "be his hero", Matthew stood up to leave but Gilbert threw his arms around the blonde's legs, preventing him from going anywhere.

_"Noooooo. . ."_ Gilbert whined. "Where are you _gooooooiiiiiiing_~?"

Matthew sighed and attempted to escape his clutches. "Outside. Because of your _brilliant idea_, Al is most likely coming over here to _kill_ you." The more Matthew struggled, the tighter his captor seemed to hold him. _Maple, he's strong!_ Matthew thought, struggling to loosen the hold on his legs.

"He won't kill me!"

"And how are you so sure of that?" Matthew ceased his wiggling to see Gilbert's reaction.

Gilbert looked up at him and answered decidedly, as if his reply was the only logical solution. "Because awesomeness can't be killed."

_Slap._ Matthew stole the opportunity of Gilbert's attention momentarily focused elsewhere to tear his foot upward out of his Boa-Constrictor-like grip. "Come on, Gilbert. Time to meet the inevitable." Matthew started to walk toward the door– well, the best he could with a teenage boy latched onto his ankle.

"What? _Boo!_" Gilbert protested as the Canadian fought forward, dragging the leech– _ahem_, I mean Gilbert –on his stomach across the smooth floor.

"Gilbert, come on!"

"Nooo! I don't wanna!"

_Ugh, arguing with Gilbert is like trying to talk logic into a four-year-old._

So he would _treat_ Gilbert like a toddler.

"Okay, Gilbert. I'll just leave you behind then." Matthew said calmly.

"Oh yeah? Fine! See if I care!"

Matthew pried his other foot from the loosened grip and straightaway headed for the exit from the closet. Opening the door, Matthew paused a moment to say "Bye, Gilbert." and left the man to lie on the floor and pout.

Closing the door behind him, Matthew walked toward where he supposed the exit was. With all the excitement (aka Gilbert running around and yelling at perfect strangers) Matthew didn't take the time to note where he was, so he was not 100% sure where he was going. The absence of a certain (loud, obnoxious, proud, confident, _insane_) albino left the corridor quiet and Matthew had time to think about the day's strange turn of events. Someone had noticed Matthew! Someone had noticed _Matthew_– Matthew, the invisible kid, the oh-I-didn't-see-you-there person. Someone had _noticed_ Matthew– actually saw his bruise, cared enough to ask what happened, and took him (albeit with unconventional means) to a hospital; he had yet to mistake Matthew for his brother or forget his existence. _Someone_ had noticed Matthew– why, oh why, did it have to be Gilbert Beilschmidt of all people? Why couldn't it have been a normal, levelheaded person? **[Because that would be boring.]**

But. . .Gilbert wasn't _all that_ bad. Sure, he may have kidnapped Matthew, endangered his life a little, trapped him in a janitor's closet, and tickled him until he stopped breathing, but he also saw Matthew (the first person other than Carlos, Ivan, and Mathias **[*evil cackle*]**) and his injuries, cried for him, and promised that Matthew wouldn't be forgotten again. Well now that he'd left Gilbert alone, Matthew was sure he would just wonder why he was in a hospital in the first place and leave, never giving another thought to anyone named Matthew Williams. That would be fine, Matthew knew that he wasn't very memorable. If you asked him, he would deny it until the end of time, but he would actually miss the insane albino a little.

"BIRDIE WAIT UP~!" someone familiar screamed.

_Eh?_ Gilbert?

Sure enough, the Prussian was chasing after him down the hall. As Gilbert came up panting, Matthew was too shocked to say anything. _Al manages to forget me entirely mid-conversation, but I can leave Gilbert alone and he still remembers me? Just who is this guy?_

"I. . .erm," Gilbert shifted his weight awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. "About the, uh, bringing you to see a doctor without your permission, and, um, attack-tickling you. . .I, uh, I feel–" The cocky albino was stumbling franticly with his words, and Matthew was still in the process of figuring out how it was possible for him to be remembered for this long. _Is it freezing over in Hell or something?_ Then he noticed Gilbert talking to him with about as much grace as Kristen Stewart flirting with Michael Cera. **[Let's just take a moment to imagine those two trying to flirt ~~ you're welcome.]** _Is he. . .trying to apologize?_

"It's okay." was Matthew's automatic response. It was extremely strange for anyone to say they were sorry to Matthew. The only person to ever apologize to him would be Carlos, but somehow that didn't mean as much as someone apologizing (maybe not in so many words as "I'm sorry") for taking Matthew to a hospital rather than for accidentally giving the Canadian a black eye.

Gilbert immediately perked up, awkwardness totally forgotten. "Sweetcakes! Let's go on out then!" Matthew sighed– that was probably the closest he would get to an apology out of him –and the two began walking to the front entrance.

Gilbert was practically skipping beside his Canadian companion, crooning some pop tune under his breath. As they walked, the song was beginning to sound increasingly familiar. It was driving him up the wall that he couldn't think of the name.

Soon, Matthew conceded. "What are you humming? It sounds really familiar."

Gilbert turned to him with a mischievous grin. "Do you _really_ want to know?"

The smirk took him back. "Um. . .yes?"

Gilbert stopped dead in his tracks, making Matthew pause to watch him curiously. With no warning whatsoever, the albino pointed at Matthew and began singing at the top of his lungs.

_"You're insecure~!_

_Don't know what for~!"_

"Oh, no."

~meanwhile!~

"Hurry, Iggy! At this rate, Gilbert could definitely so something to Mattie!" Alfred yelled from the passenger seat, smacking his friend on the arm repeatedly as he drove as well as he could **[Arthur would like to point out that he was driving the speed limit.]** with the loud American screaming in his ear. Near completely at the end of his rope and ready to throttle him, Arthur said the first thing that popped in his brain to make him shut up.

"What if he's already done something, Alfred?"

Silence.

_Crap._

"GO, IGGY! _GO!_"

"_I'm already going, git_!"

~back to the action~

_"You're turnin' heads when you walk through the do-o-or~!"_

"Gilbert, please, stop singing so loud!" Matthew said loudly, "loudly" for Matthew just means at an average whispering volume, pleading in the nicest way possible to please _shut. The. Maple. Up._

_"Don't need makeup~_

_To cover up~"_

Gilbert demonstrated the line about makeup by motioning dramatically to his face and Matthew had to try very hard not to laugh. _Don't encourage him!_ he reminded himself. "Gilbert, you're making a scene."

Gilbert responded by singing even louder.

_"Baby~ the way that you are is eno-o-ough~_

_Everyone else in the room can see it~_

_Everyone else but yo~ou~"_

Gilbert pranced over to a phone mounted on the wall and pressed a few buttons. _Gilbert,_ Matthew thought, _what are you doing?_ He grinned ear-to-ear at Matthew, then continued to sing into the pale beige phone.

_"Baby you light up my world like nobody else~"_

_Maple._ was all Matthew could think as he realized Gilbert's singing was being projected through the speaker system. To the _whole hospital!_

"_Gilbert_!" he hissed. "What are you thinking? We are going to get caught!"

_"The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed~_

_And when you smile at the ground it ain't hard to tell~_

_You don't kno-o-ow~!_

_You don't know you're beautiful~!"_

Matthew had to rip the phone away from Gilbert, hang it up, clamp a hand over his mouth, and literally drag him away to get him to finally stop. Apparently the Prussian was stronger than he thought though because he easily pushed Matthew's hands away.

"I wasn't done with my song!" he pouted childishly.

"That may very well be, but I do _not_ want to get kicked out! What if I need to come back to the hospital at some point?"

"Hm. . ." Gilbert thought a moment. "You _do_, or do _not_?"

"_Not!_" he cried.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Besides, Al is–"

"Oh, yeah! I forgot about that guy!"

Matthew nearly choked on air. Gilbert _forgot_ about _Alfred F. Jones_? But he _remembered_ **_Matthew_**? That settles it. He must have some kind of brain damage.

"Come on Birdie, Let's go meet him!" Gilbert grabbed the blonde's hand and sprinted down the hallway.

* * *

~Monsieur Timeskip :{D~

"You're the one that carried me in, how did we get lost?" Matthew asked, exasperated and tired from the near ten minutes of lost wandering.

"Hey, I can't carry you, scream, _and_ pay attention to where we are all at the same time! You should do at least _some_ of the work!" Gilbert swung their hands clasped together, ignoring Matthew's attempts to release his hand.

"Gilbert?" Matthew received a hum in response. "Can you let my hand go, please?"

Gilbert seemed to think it over. "Hmm. . .no."

Matthew turned to him. "Why not?"

A smirk fought its way onto the Prussian's features. "Because your brother just arrived, and I can still piss him off even further."

"How's that?" Matthew raised an eyebrow, extremely suspicious of Gilbert.

Now the smirk was a full-blown grin. "Like this." He reached up to cup Matthew's face and shamelessly gave him a chaste peck on the cheek. As Matthew sputtered and burned a nice, dark shade of crimson, someone started screaming.

_"BEILSCHMIDT!"_

* * *

~Third Person P.O.V.~

Spinning around, Matthew saw an enraged Alfred stomping over to them and Arthur– how did he get roped into coming? –jogging behind to keep up. Matthew started to walk forward, quickly planning out ways to avoid a fight.

"A-Al," he began, trying to focus his brother's attention away from the one he was (without a doubt) imagining creative ways to murder. "he w-was just kidding! Look at me, I'm f-fine!"

Arthur looked over at the Canadian like he just now noticed he was standing there and his expression morphed into concern. He ran past Alfred and went straight to Matthew, when he reached him Arthur extended his hand to press a few fingers to the injured cheek. "Matthew, what happened, lad?" The Brit gave him a look that said _What really happened?_

Matthew cringed from the touch. "I f-fell down the stairs at s-school." _Please don't say anything_

Emerald eyes flickered to the American looking on the two worriedly. _You need to tell Alfred._

Matthew internally panicked. _Please no!_

His expression softened, but the persistence remained. **_You_**_ need to say something, okay?_

Matthew looked away. He _really_ didn't want to say anything to his brother. . .but Arthur was right, he had to tell him something.

"Al . . ." Matthew said softly, fearing the reaction he would get.

Alfred's head snapped back to the Canadian and his malice-filled glare disappeared upon seeing his (barely) younger brother. "Mattie? What's wrong?"

His feet shuffled and Matthew refused to meet his gaze, instead studying his shoes. "There's um. . ." _Hey look at those ants._ "something that I, er, I. . ." _They're going into that crack, do they live there? Don't they get claustrophobic?_ "something I should probably," _Do ants get claustrophobic?_ "tell you. It's, uh, important. . ." _Being an ant has to suck. Hey, can ants have bullies? Can _**_I_**_ be an ant?_ "Could we please go home now?" _Ants probably don't have to handle this aggravation_

"Right now?" Alfred whines, trying to save his hateful tone for Gilbert. He didn't really want to go now, the hero needed to serve justice! He glanced over to Arthur for help, who instead shot him a look that screamed _Yes, now._ For once in his life, Alfred read the atmosphere. He debated: kick Gilbert's **[maple]** for touching his brother, or Mattie needing him. The decision was instantaneous. "Of course, Mattie. Let's go."

_Well, maple._ Matthew thought. _Now I _really_ want to be an ant._

Alfred threw a protective arm around his brother and led him to the car, but not before shooting a vicious glare at Gilbert who just seemed amused by the altercation. Matthew let himself be led to the rich sapphire-colored truck with Arthur in tow a few feet behind. The trio clambered into the wide three-seater with Alfred behind the wheel and his brother on the far right. Somehow Arthur ended up between them, and the tense air was palpable. The ride to the Jones-Williams household was silent– which was extremely strange for Alfred who usually took every opportunity to sing along to the radio on blast –and each person was deep in thought.

* * *

~Arthur~: _Who would do something like this to Matthew? He is easily the kindest person at our school and even apologizes if somebody trips him. I truly cannot imagine that anyone would have any kind of row with the lad. Alfred?– _**_absolutely_**_. Matthew?– never._

* * *

~Matthew~: _Oh maplemaplemaplemaplemaple! What am I going to say to him? Knowing Al, the second he figures out that someone hit me, he'll want to know who so he can buy them a one-way ticket to Hell. Oh gosh. . .what the maple can I do? I don't want Carlos to really get beat up by Al, so what–_

_Buzz. _A near completely foreign vibrating in the pocket of Matthew's jeans interrupted his mental anxiety attack. _Eh?_ he wondered. _A text? No one texts me. . ._ He dug the sleek cellphone from the depths of his pocket and was surprised at what was displayed on the screen. "1 New Message from: AWESOME" _Did. . .did Gilbert put his number in my phone?_ He clicked the "view" button and read the message:

**Hey Birdie! That was tote HILARIOUS! LOL**

**Wanna hang out w/ the awesomeness this Fri?**

**-Awsum**

Matthew grinned and quickly typed a reply.

_If Al doesn't kill me first, yeah. That would be great._

_-Matthew Williams_

**i think u mean AWESOME! :D**

**-Awsum**

* * *

~Alfred~: _What's up with Mattie? I've seen him nervous before– which is like all the freakin' time –but he looked kinda. . .scared. What would he be scared of? What is going on with him? . . . . . Wonder if we can have hamburgers for dinner._

* * *

**See? Al's not ****_that_**** bad a guy. An idiot, maybe, but he does care about his brother.**

**Alfred: HEY! I'm not an idiot!**

**Ginge: Oh ****_really_****. Tell me then, not-an-idiot, what does "claustrophobic" mean?**

**Alfred: . . .**

**Ginge: I rest my case.**

**But seriously, I feel kind of (but not really) bad for having fun writing Angry Alfred. Don't worry– for my children who wanted a fight –Protective Big Brother Alfred will be showing up again!**

**Okay, tres tacos to take care of: First, I totally think that Gilbert would listen to One Direction. I could definitely see him dancing around in his room to boy bands. Second, my evil laughter had a purpose; those three will be making a few cameos. Who knows if they'll be pleasant or not? And third, (not counting aforementioned bullies) there is a MAJOR foreshadowing hidden in this chapter! Can you guess what it is?**

***mad scientist cackling* *lightning***

**Lastly, I've decided that I'm going to aim for Fridays to upload chapters. Does that sound good to everyone? *studio audience cheering* Sweet.**

**Review and I'll include more musical numbers!**

**Until next time, mein children!**

**~Ginge**


	4. In Which Alfred is an Idiot

¡**Buenos días, children!**

**This FanFiction chapter is powered off Diet Coke and songs on Youtube.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, because if I did, then by extension I would own Canada. . . :}**

**Warnings: Watered-down language, idiocy, some angst, not much humor really, DRAMA, and. . .er. . . *coughassaultcough* WHAT!**

**Enjoy, children~**

* * *

"So what's up, Mattie?" Alfred asked now that the three had arrived at the Jones-Williams house and Arthur had gone in the kitchen to make some tea supportively. (Even though Arthur can't cook– no offense, Arthur– his tea is phenomenal. Right next to Yao's.)

"Well, um," _Maple!_ Matthew swore (he's such a rebel). _I was counting on Al having already forgotten me by now. . ._ "There's something I should tell you."

Alfred's head titled slightly in confusion– Matthew thought that this made him look like a dog, but said nothing. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

For an idiot, he sure was perceptive! "Well, er, I guess you could say so. The thing is. . ."

"Tea's done!" Arthur called as he came into the living room, bringing a tray carrying a teapot (since when did their family own a teapot?) and three intricate china cups (okay, they _definitely_ didn't have china teacups! Did Arthur just carry a tea set around? **[Yes, yes he does.]**) with a nervous smile. Matthew praised the heavens. _Saved by Arthur! Ah, bless Mrs. Kirkland for giving birth to him!_ "Care for a cuppa?"

Alfred didn't tear his gaze away from his brother for a second as he said "Yeah, okay, not now Arthur. Mattie was saying something." _Maple, heavens! Why would you get my hopes up?_ "Go on, Matt."

Matthew stared down at his hands wringing together anxiously as he said in a whisper, "Okay, well, the bruise I got. . ." he paused to swallow. "it's not from falling down the staircase. It's, uh. . ."

"Well?" Al's voice sounded unusually stiff, but Matthew dared not look him in the eye.

Wanting to get it over with, he decided to say it quick like ripping off a bandaid. "Carlosbeatmeupandstuffbecaus ebethoughtIwasAlandwantedtog etbackatyouforpostingthosepi cturesofhimontheinternetlast week." Matthew got out all in one breath.

Arthur was the one who spoke, talking in a delicate manner. "Could you say that again, lad? A bit slower?"

Matthew sucked in a shaky breath and repeated, "Carlos beat me up and stuff because he thought I was Al and wanted to get back at you for posting those pictures of him on the internet last week."

The silence was deafening and the Canadian could hear his heartbeat thump erratically in his ears. Just what was Al thinking. . .?

* * *

_Mattie got beat up. . .because of _**_me_**_? I. . .I thought that he'd forgotten about that! It was like a week ago! But apparently he didn't. My baby bro got beat up by some Cuban dude 'cause he thought that he was me? This is my fault, isn't it?_

Narrator: By Jove! Has Alfred finally realized that idiot actions come with reactions?

_No! This is that Cuban's fault!_

Narrator: No, apparently not.

He looked over to Mattie, who was chewing his lip uneasily and avoiding Alfred's gaze studying him. That God-awful purple mark tainting his little brother's face stirred up an odd combination of guilt and rage. Wasn't it Al's duty as a big bro and a hero to _protect_ him, not _cause_ him harm? What kind of hero was he if he couldn't save Mattie? _This is all from that Cuban! What's his name again? Juan? Whatever! That son of a _**[little puppydog girl]** _is going to pay for hurting Mattie!_

"Alfred," an accented voice broke him out of his reverie. "mate, calm down."

Alfred realized that his fists were clenched and unkempt nails dug painfully into his palms. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and attempted to relax. "I'm fine. But Mattie?" Mattie hesitantly raised his head to look at his brother when called. "Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?" but apparently his voice showed how furious he was because the Canadian cringed away from him.

"I-I didn't w-want you m-mad at m-me. . ." he averted his eyes, sounding like he was about to cry.

_Crap._ "No, no, no," Alfred leaped over the coffee table between the two on opposite couches and say beside his battered brother. "I'm not mad at you, not at all! I just. . .I don't know, I'm just kinda surprised that anyone would be this to you. It's. . .I'm the one who should be sorry."

* * *

Matthew sighed in relief and wiped away the wetness from his eyes with the blade of his finger. "Th-thanks, Al."

Al grinned his thousand-watt smiled and pulled his brother into a hug. Reader, you may be thinking _Aw, how sweet! What can go wrong?_ but do you forget that not only are Alfred's hugs lethal, but also Matthew is currently sporting three bruised ribs? Not a good mix.

"Ow ow ow ow!" Matthew cried, shoving away a confused Alfred. The Canadian doubled over in pure agony and felt tears leak from his eyes. He whimpered pathetically and heard Al say something like "What's happening?"

Suddenly Arthur was talking calmly in his ear. "Matthew, what is wrong? What can I do?"

Matthew attempted to let Arthur know about the doctor's instructions in his hoodie, but it just came out in a sad squeak. "P-pocket!"

The Brit plucked the folded paper out and Matthew interpreted the silence as him reading the scrawl. All Matthew could really think was about the aching, throbbing pain exploding in his abdomen. The people talking around him sounded unfocused and warbling, making concentrating on any one thing impossible. His mind screamed at him _OW OW OW OW OW OW HOLY MAPLE THIS HURTS LIKE A MOTHER-MAPLE WHAT DID I EVER DO WRONG TO DESERVE THIS?!_ Matthew vaguely recognized that he was being laid down on the couch, and at the same time felt like he would never breathe again. Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that Alfred was gently holding his hand, trying to be comforting but not knowing what to do.

Arthur's voice invaded his thoughts, saying "Matthew, I have an icepack, a water, and some Advil. I will hand you the medicine to take then put the ice on, alright?" Matthew numbly nodded. "Okay, you need to sit up to drink." Slowly he sat up to take a swig of the room temperature water and swallowed the two plastic pills, feeling them slide down his throat. He involuntarily shuddered, he hated to take pills. The blonde lied back down and felt said icepack pressed on his chest, wincing at the sudden icey weight but soon relief flooded in from how wonderful it felt on the pain. As the aching faded Matthew found he could breathe again and that the other two were talking about him. He heard broken words like "Matthew", "hospital", "albino", "school", and "kill" reach his ears and he could only guess at why Al was growing angrier. When the pain was reduced to a dull throb, Matthew steadily curled himself into a sitting position against the arm of the soft, still holding the material icepack to his chest.

"Matthew, are you okay now?" Arthur asked before the invalid had a chance to speak up. Alfred' who previously had his back to him, rotated to face his brother and could see the anger etched on his face.

"Better." he replied, making sure not to insinuate that he was totally without pain– Matthew was by no means at 100%.

"Matthew," Alfred began and the recipient cringed. _Al _**_never_**_ calls me Matthew. . . _"WHY W–"

"Matthew, lad," Arthur successfully cut off his friend before he _really_ started screaming. "could you show us the damage please? See how bad it is and such?"

The Canadian hesitantly nodded. _Guess there's no way around this, eh?_ He set the icepack aside and gingerly rolled his shirt up– honestly, he had tried to avert his eyes while the doctor had checked out the injury so he didn't know how bad it looked. Matthew got his answer from the horrified look from Arthur and watched Al's expression contort in rage.

"MATTHEW WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THIS?!" he shouted, standing up as he could no longer just sit calmly and take it like Arthur did.

Matthew shook in fear of Al's temper and managed to stutter out "I-I-I didn't w-want t-to bo-bother you. . ."

"WELL I SURE AS HELL AM BOTHERED NOW!" Clearly Alfred couldn't have cared less that the windows were open and his livid yelling was being projected throughout the neighborhood.

"I-I'm s-sorr–"

"I'M GONNA KILL ME THAT **[maple]** COMMIE!" he shouted, not even listening to his brother.

Matthew cried "No! Don't hurt him, Al! It wasn't intentional. He always apologies after–"

"'always'? Lad, has this happened before?" Arthur asked, sounding indignant.

Matthew's hands flew to his mouth. _Maple! I wasn't supposed to say that!_

His brother started screaming obscenities that made the Canadian wish he was deaf. He ranted on and on about how stupid he was to not have noticed, why didn't Mattie ever tell him(?), how long had this been going on(?), and an extremely detailed description of how Al was going to slowly murder "that Cuban" with a ruler, paper clips, a Geometry compass, and a pair of safety scissors. Then he turned on Matthew, red in the face from yelling. "What is _wrong_ with you, Matthew?"

* * *

"E-eh?" he barely got out before Alfred started talking again.

"I mean _really_, Matt, you seriously can't stand up for yourself? Are you _that_ weak? Or just useless? You let other walk all over you, and you don't say anything about it when you're being beat up? Come on, that's pretty pathetic, even for you." There was silence as Alfred huffed, somewhat tired from his monologue, until a hiccup rang through the room. Both heads swiveled around to see Matthew with his hands curled on his knees and despite how his head was bowed, long hair perfectly obscuring his face, it was clear from the drops wetting his jeans that he had started crying. Alfred swore. "Oh, Mattie, I-I just. . ."

Arthur noticed his hands clench and the coppery-blonde head shook, motioning just one thing– "no". His head raised and the pink around his eyes and tears streaming down his cheeks were prevalent. Matthew gave a small smile that didn't touch his eyes. "It's fine, Al."

"No, it's not!" Alfred insisted, moving to hold his twin's hands but was lightly pushed away.

"I'm going to go for a walk okay?" Not waiting for a response Matthew got to his feet and stepped quietly out the door without any sort of goodbye or time he might be home.

As the front door carefully shut, Alfred hung his head and gruffly held onto fistfuls of gold-colored hair. The only things he could think about were: _What the _**[maple]**_ is my deal? I wanted to tell Mattie how worried I am about him, but instead I took my anger out on him and said a bunch of _**[maple leaf]**_ I don't mean. God, I'm a moron._ Along with enough self-deprecating cursing to make a sailor blush. A sigh was heard beside the American and said brooding one asked in a strained voice "So are you going to call me an idiot now? And a git and a wanker?" _I deserve it._

"I'm not going to say anything." His tone was apathetic, which only served to make Alfred feel even worse. There was an unspoken yet clear understanding of _"And doesn't it hurt more that I won't?"_

"Dammit Iggy, I screwed up."

"I know. I was there, I saw the whole thing."

"That's not funny, Arthur." he said bitterly.

"I'm not laughing, Alfred." the Brit matched his tone, but then took a deep breath and said softly "You didn't mean those things, did you." It wasn't a question.

Alfred's head shot up and his friends could see how upset he was. "Of course not! I love Mattie more than anything! I, well. . ."

"You let your temper get the better of you." Arthur supplied.

"Yeah! I just don't. . .uh. . ._ugh!"_ Frustrated, the American threw his head into the nearest pillow on the couch and yelled unintelligibly into it.

Chuckling lightly, Arthur patted his friend's blonde head and replied "I am not going to tell you what to do, mate, but I think you should apologize to your little brother. Right now it looks like he is thinking that you hate him." Alfred looked up at him in shock and the Brit shrugged. "You _did_ just scream at him about how 'pathetic' he is."

Alfred groaned loudly. "Don't remind me! But. . .what do I even say to him? I mean. . ."

The sound of thumping on the staircase made Alfred pause. _The _**[maple]**_ is that?_ A blur of white sped down the foot of the stairs and a familiar mini-bear ran over to the American and pawed at his pant leg. Arthur gave a small smile. "Hello, Kuma. Are you hungry?"

The bear shook his fuzzy head and spoke in his high voice. "Canalee!" he cried desperately.

Arthur took a knew to look the bear in his beady eyes. "Matthew's not here, Kuma." It never ceased to surprise him that neither the Canadian nor his pet could recall each other's names.

Growling, the bear stood up on his hind legs and pawed the Brit across the face like a sow-slap (_Thank God they had him declawed!_ Arthur thought) and yelled "No! Canasada trouble!" Kumajirou cursed his inability to speak in complete sentences and prayed the fools would realize his master was in trouble!

Alfred gasped. "Mattie's in trouble?!" The polar bear nodded in confirmation. "How do you know?"

Kumajirou looked up at him with fiery determination. "Just know."

Arthur took the little bear's warning seriously. "Alright. Let us go then." He stood up and turned to the pet. "Do you know where he is?"

"Will smell."

The American gave a curt nod and made a motion toward the door indication _Lead on._

* * *

As soon as Matthew closed the front door of his house shut, he started to run. He wasn't sure exactly where he was headed, just away. When he couldn't run (let alone breathe) anymore, the Canadian paused to catch his breath and realized that he was near a little shopping market a few blocks from his house, near a familiar park. Matthew leaned against the nearest wall, panting heavily.

_"Pathetic"_

_"Weak"_

_"Useless"_

He slid down the wall until he was sitting, thinking about how angrily Al had spoken to him. _I thought. . .out of all people that Al would be the one to try and comfort me._ "N-nope. . ." he let out a sob and immediately started crying again. _He thinks I'm just worthless. . . I probably am. What's the point of my being here?_

_Buzz_. Matthew pulled his phone out from his pocket and looked at the screen with watery eyes.

**Haaaaaaaaaaay Birdie! Howd it go w/ brozilla?**

**-Awsum**

What should he say. . .?

_Badly._

_-Matthew Williams_

A reply came nearly fifteen seconds later.

**Wut happend Birdie**

**-Awsum**

Matthew sniffled and started to type.

_Well I told him about what happened with Carlos and he got really mad and started to y_

Someone tripping right over Matthew stopped him min-word as both the victim and he sprawled on the ground, Matthew's cell skidding about five feet away. "Ow. . ." he groaned, then remembered the poor person that fell over him. "Oh my maple! I am so so sorry! I wasn't paying any attention to where I was sitting and it was totally my fa–"

"_Hej_, Matt!"

Matthew froze. _That voice. . .oh please, God, no!_ He looked up and saw that all-too familiar spiky dirty-blonde hair and a stupid grin. "M-Mathias?"

"What'cha doin'?"

"N-nothing. . ." Tha Canadian quickly stood up and made a move for his poor, abused cell phone. "I have t-to go, so goodb—"

Mathias instantly snatched his wrist, _tsk_ing disappointedly. "So soon, Matt? We haven't gotten to talk all day!"

Matthew gave him a polite smile, but was starting to panic internally. He tried to gently pull Mathias's hand off his own. "Y-yes, I really should g-get h-home, Al is pr-probably wondering w-where I—"

The Dane instead socked him in the stomach (purely by the grace if God he missed the bruises!) and knocked the wind out of him. As Matthew was trying to breathe, Mathias grabbed his upper arm, dragging him into a narrow alley between shops. Matthew's back was slammed into a brick wall and he yelped in pain. "Aw Matt, why do you insist on making this harder on yourself? You _know_ that you can't get away, right? _Right?_" His grip on the blonde's biceps tightened painfully. Stifling a cry, Matthew shut his eyes to keep Mathias from seeing the tears wet his eyes and nodded. "Good." He let up on Matthew's arms and his hands travelled down to the Canadian's waist. On instinct, Matthew tried to push him away but Mathias just grasped his wrists and pulled them behind the blonde, in-between him and the wall— this pulled the Danish man so close they were less than two inches apart. Matthew struggled to release his trapped arms and get the Dane off him, but failed miserably as his attacker just held his forearms back with one hand and the other held Matthew's chin in a bruising grip. "You're not going anywhere are you, _min lille canadiske_?" With tears now fully running down his face Matthew shook his head (trying to hold back whimpers) and Mathias grinned. "_Godt_." His head moved in to his captive's hair and inhaled deeply as his free hand curled around wavy blonde locks. "We're gonna have so much fun, huh Matt?" Matthew couldn't stop the sob, and in response the Dane forced back his skull into the brick wall. The Canadian started to see spots and Mathias smirked again, leaned in—

"HEY! What are you doing?" A heavily accented voice shouted.

Mathias turned his head to face the speaker but the blonde was unable to see anything past the Danish man in front of him. "Mind your own business, won't ya?" Matthew sobbed and the grip on his head tightened until the Canuck was sure he had pulled out a good handful of hair. He turned to Matthew angrily. "And **you** _lukker fanden_!"

"Let him go." The voice commanded.

Mathias cackled, amused. "How're you gonna do that exactly?"

The body pressed up against Matthew was suddenly gone and he fell on his behind against the concrete. Through his hazy vision he saw some tall person in dark clothes punch Mathias across the face and he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Groaning, he stood back up and took a swing himself at his opponent, who easily dodged it and grasped the Dane's shirt.

"Now leave." he growled.

Hesitantly, Mathias shoved the hands away and started walking back down the alleyway. Before leaving, though, he called over his shoulder "See ya later, Matt~"

After a minute, the mystery person calmly said "Are you okay?" But the voice sounded far-off and like he was talking through snow on a Tv show.

"I. . ." Then everything faded to black.

* * *

**Translations: (Danish)**

**min lille canadiske - my little Canadian**

**godt - good**

**lukker fanden - shut the hell up**

**OH NO! Who's found Matthew? He dangerous or a good guy?**

**_Sigh. . ._ This took me WAY too long to write! Gomen'nasai! I seriously have to admit that I love Kumajirou and writing him is too fun! I was contemplating whether I would have Kuma talk or not, but then I thought _hey! I do what I freaking want!_ So yeah, talking bears~!**

**So this last week I got all depressed so (as I do when I have emotions to get out) I wrote a short FanFic that's just as angsty as I am, and since I don't feel like being made fun of today, it shall never see the light of day.**

**Only a tiny bit of fighting in this. . .but DEFINITELY a fight at school next chapter. Yay blood vi-o-lence~**

**What do y'all think of not including the written out perspective changes? Too confusing? Should I edit them back in? Also, thinking of changing the genres to Humor & Hurt/Comfort. . . .because Matthew's life SUCKS.**

**PS, did anyone catch that a sow is a lady-bear? So a "sow-slap". . .? No? Okay, I'll just go cry in my corner. . .**

**_Aaaaaaaanywaaaaaaaaaays. . . ._**

**Stay tuned! Review and all that jazz. Until next time, mein children!**

**~Ginge**


	5. Of Lawn Mowers and Dora the Explorer

**_Guten Morgen_****, children!**

**I'm trying ****_really_**** hard to type these chapters by Friday, but my schooliness is making it difficult to type it all up and post it by Fridays. May-haps Saturday afternoon is better. . . I shall think on it. . .**

**Just to clear things up, this chapter is written all in third-person.**

**Warnings: drama, a little language, German, French, violence (finally), and Matthew being adorable!**

**Enjoy, children~**

* * *

Gilbert was bothered. Just about twenty minutes had passed and Birdie still hadn't replied to his text. The Canadian seemed like the type of person who would never ignore someone, and would even let them know if he _couldn't_ text back. _Did something happen?_ He wondered, falling back dramatically on his bed. _Does he not want to talk about it?_ Gilbert started to type to Birdie with the intention of letting him know he didn't have to say anything if he didn't want to when the front door opened loudly.

"_Bruder! _[Brother!]" the commanding voice of his younger (not really a "little" brother) called in German, "_Komm her! _[Come here!]"

"_Gebucht!_ [Busy!]" Gilbert answered distractedly from his room, not budging.

"Helfen Sie Bruder, bitte! [Brother, please help!]" At the pleading tone, Gilbert stopped dead. _Ludwig never says "please", and forget about asking me for help! . . .what is going on here?_ As he stood, the Prussian was hit by a revelation. _He must be being held hostage and he's trying to let me know something's off! What the _**[Ahorn]**_ should I do. . .?_ Gilbert suddenly remembered the rigorous training his _großvater_ put him through. He dug through a drawer until he found what he was looking for– a small handgun. (Yeah it's a little illegal for him to own a gun, but since when did old man Fritz really care about that?) Poised to shoot, Gilbert quietly crept down the hallway into their living room and as he did he could hear his brother pacing. The tall blonde immediately spotted him and called out "Gilbert! _Was machst du?_ [What are you doing?]"

Gilbert emerged with the gun. "_Wo ist der Eindringling?_ [Where's the intruder?]"

Ludwig looked baffled. "_Eindringling? Warum. . .überhaupt nichts dagegen. Nimme die Waffe Weg, brauche ich Ihre Hilfe._ [Intruder? Why. . .nevermind. Just put the gun away, I need your help.]" Taking Gilbert's silence as a cue to continue, he elaborated "_Okay, also hier ist was passiert ist. . ._ [Okay, so here's what happened. . .]"

~Señor Flashback~

Ludwig walked down the sidewalk, relieved the grocery shopping was (finally!) done. He sighed, wondering why Gilbert couldn't buy his own _dumm_ beer. _Let's see. . .what'll we have for dinner? I know we have potatoes, wurst. . ._

Something suspiciously sounding like a cry of pain interrupted his thoughts, and Ludwig immediately started looking around. _Is someone in trouble?_ he thought while glancing down a narrow walkway between building, even though he doubted anyone would be in an alley. . .

"You're not going anywhere are you, _min lille canadiske_?" a low voice said and Ludwig continued toward a shadow he supposed it belonged to. "_Godt_." he said again. As the dark shapes came into focus, Ludwig had to keep himself from shouting right then and there. A guy with big spiky hair seemed to be pinning someone against the wall, holding their hands behind his/her (it was impossible to identify their gender, the dirty-blonde fellow was in the way) back. It occurred to the German before he stomped over homicidally that this just could have been some way this guy was being romantic. He honestly did not know if he had been reading into it too much. Everyone has something they won't stand for in the least degree– be it lying, stealing, animal abuse, the like –and kind kind of sexual abuse could turn the normally collected, well-mannered blonde into a fighter in the snap of fingers. Ludwig sighed. _Calm down, Ludwig. No need to jump to conclusions._ As he hesitantly turned to leave, the person in question spoke again. "We're gonna have so much fun, huh Matt?" There was a sob, and Ludwig turned about just in time to see a shaggy blonde head rammed back into the brick wall.

"HEY!" Ludwig yelled immediately. "What are you doing?"

The head spun around, and Ludwig wondered _Who's he? I don't recognize him. . .he looks about Gilbert's age, ja?_ "Mind your own business, won't ya?" Another cry sounded, and the mystery guy angrily spat to the captive "And **you** _lukker fanden_!"

Ludwig saw red. "Let him go." and white knuckles clenched around the shopping bag handles.

Mystery Guy laughed mockingly. "How're you gonna do that exactly?"

Instantaneously Ludwig threw down the grocery bags and ripped the attacker away. In the corner of his eye the German noted the blonde slid down onto the ground, but focused all his energy into punching that _Sohn von einer Hure_ right in the face. MG hit the concrete below and when he stood himself up and swung at the German, Ludwig dodged it, grabbing the guy's shirt and lifting him off the floor as he snarled, two inches from his now-red face, "Now _leave_." He legitimately had to stop himself from beating the guy within an inch of his life, when in reality he allowed MG to push his hands away and watched him stalk down the alleyway.

Before he left, the assailant called over his shoulder "See ya later, Matt~"

As soon as MG was out of sight, Ludwig turned to the blonde slumped on the ground. He looked like he was in shock and his eyes were unfocused, so the German asked the first question in his head. "Are you okay?"

The little blonde's voice was weak and so quiet Ludwig had to be perfectly silent and strain to hear him. "I. . ." the his body went limp.

Ludwig struggled to remain calm. "_Kind! Kind,_ are you okay? _Oh, Scheiße! Was mache ich?_ [Kid! Kid, are you okay? Oh, crap! What do I do?]" Thinking quickly, Ludwig patted the unconscious boy's pockets to look for a wallet or cell phone of any kind. Nothing. Since he didn't know what else to do the German gathered the boy in his arms to get him back to the Beilschmidt house as soon as possible.

~back to the future! (Great Scott)~

"_Ich wusste nicht, was andered zu tun, damit ich ihn hierhur gebracht._ [I didn't know what else to do so I brought him here.]" Ludwig explained.

"Ah. . ._also lassen Sie uns sehen die. . . _[So let's see who. . .]" Then Gilbert noticed the familiar Candian passed out on the couch. "Birdie!" He ran to Birdie's side, kneeling by the couch as he started to check him over for injuries. "_Ach, Birdie mein armen!_ [Oh, my poor Birdie!]" he cried.

His brother looked confused. "You know him?"

"_Ja_." Gilbert answered simply. "You said he got hit on the back of the head?" Ludwig nodded. Carefully, the albino turned Birdie on his side so as to get a better angle of the injured area and winced just looking at it. "_Holen mich einen Eisbeutel und zwei Kissen, die ich brauche, um siecherzustellen, dass dieser Bastard nicht irgendetwas anderes tun, ihm._ [Go get me an ice pack and two pillows, I need to make sure that bastard didn't do anything else to him.]"

Ludwig didn't argue as he ran to fetch the things his brother asked for. He, personally, thought it strange that Gilbert was acting so seriously– the last time he had seen the albino not behave as thought he'd been actively smoking was when Ludwig had broken his ankle when he was nine (as Gilbert was ten going on eleven). He shook his head of the thoughts and focused on the task at hand.

Gilbert examined the Canadian's dainty forearms– he had to wonder if the kid ever ate! –and when the saw the pale handprints and little half-moons where it looked like nails had dug into his tender skin, he thought cheerfully _Now I can take our new lawn mower out for a test drive~!_ There was a quiet groan as Gilbert watched Birdie shift. "Birdie? You awake?"

"G-Gilbert. . .?" he whispered blearily.

"The Awesomeness in the flesh."

"Could. . .could you. . .?" It sounded like it was difficult to talk for him so Gilbert waited silently for him to finish. "I-I n-need to call Arthur. . ."

"We don't have your Handy, Birdie." Gilbert informed.

"Oh yeah. . .when Mathias tripped over me. . ."

"_Mathias?_" He shouted accidentally, but lowered his voice when Birdie cringed. "Is he the guy who. . .?" Gilbert was somehow unable to say it. Birdie nodded slowly. "I will exsanguinate him~!" he sang, thinking up ways to get away with sneaking their blender into the school.

Birdie stuttered out "D-don't! I-it's fine. . ." Before Gilbert could vehemently argue that it was NOT "fine", the Canadian quietly said "Could you p-please call Arthur?"

Swallowing his anger, Gilbert nodded stiffly and pulled out his own mobile phone. At least he didn't ask for that _Narr_ Alfred. . . "Yeah, sure, what's his number?"

* * *

Alfred sneezed but it didn't deter him from following the little white bear currently running at full speed. He, being on the football team, had no problem with sprinting but the skinny Brit behind him could barely breathe. "Ya alright Iggy?" he called. Arthur didn't (couldn't) respond, but right then the polar bear stopped so the two sat a minute to catch their breath. It wasn't too awfully bad for Alfred, but the Englishman was wheezing.

"No. . .I'm. . .not all. . .right. . .git. . ." he panted.

Kuma padded over to them and Alfred noticed something peaking out of his muzzle. "Got something, Kumajalopy?" The tiny bear mumbled something, but it was unintelligible through the unidentified object in his mouth. Alfred held his hand out below Kuma's half-closed mouth and the bear dropped said item into his open palm. (While searching for Matthew the enemies decided to put aside their rivalry, otherwise Kumajirou wouldn't have had a problem with biting the American's hand.) Upon inspection, he found it was a cellphone similar to his. Is this. . .? Alfred slid the screen and saw an extremely familiar hockey team logo as the background. He immediately panicked. "Iggy, this is Mattie's phone! It was just in the street! What if he was Mattie-napped?" Alfred grabbed the Brit's shoulders and started shaking him fiercely. "IGGY WHAT DO WE DO?!"

"First of all you should calm down and not act like a chicken with its head cut off, panicking is not going to help anyone." Arthur replied evenly, trying to soothe his friend before he gave himself an anxiety attack. Alfred took a deep breath and forced himself to relax his vice-like grip before he cut off the circulation in his victim's arms.

"Sorry, Iggs. . .but what do we do? I don't even know where to start." Alfred looked like he was about to cry and the emotionally constipated Englishman was about to attempt ("attempt" being the optimal word) to comfort him when The Clash started singing from Arthur's trouser pocket.

He stopped Joe Strummer mid-lyric with his greeting "Hello, Arthur Kirkland speaking."

"_Ja_, this is Gilbert. . ." the albino grumbled, still angry about his Birdie's clash with the Dane. "Birdie's here at my _Hause_ if you were wondering. . ." _If you idiots noticed he was gone. . . _he added in his head.

Arthur sighed in relief. "Oh, thank the Lord!" Then he remembered Kuma insisting he was in trouble. "Is he alright? Is he hurt in any way?"

"Um. . . I'll hand the phone to him." he replied, unsure of what and how much Birdie wanted to tell them.

"Hey Arthur." a quiet voice said, sounding strained.

"Matthew, has anything happened? Kuma said that you were in trouble!" Arthur explained, holding Alfred's face at arm's length to keep him away from the telephone.

"Um, yeah. I just hit my head a little. I'm fine though! S-so don't worry!" Matthew rushed the last part, not wanting to make the Englishman upset.

"Matthew," Arthur whispered to make sure Alfred could not hear. "You should come back. Alfred wants to apologize for what he said. He did not mean a single word of it."

"I know. . ." the Canuck sighed, remembering what his brother had said (read: yelled) to him. _That doesn't mean that it hurts any less._ "I just don't think I can face him right now."

Gilbert recognized his darkening mood and (despite not really knowing what exactly they were talking about) interjected instantly, "You could stay the night here, Birdie."

The blonde covered the speaker on the cell phone and looked up at his friend. "Really?"

Gilbert felt himself smirk. "_Ja, wirklich_." Birdie then smiled.

"Arthur, I'm going to spend the night at Gil's. Do you think you could bring my backpack to school tomorrow, please?" he requested politely, recalling that Arthur had told Matthew during the eternally awkward drive from the hospital that he had collected the Canadian's backpack from Mr. Edelstein's classroom.

"Of course I can lad." The Brit answered, pleased that Matthew had made a friend. (For now he's ignoring that that friend is insane.) He lowered his voice again as he said "You know that you are going to have to talk to your brother at school tomorrow, right?"

Just like that the Canadian's face fell. "Yeah. I know. See you tomorrow morning?"

"Alright. Night, Matthew." As soon as Arthur cancelled the call Alfred bombarded him with questions without any room to breathe.

"Where's Mattie? How is he? Is he hurt? Is he safe? What happened? When's he comin' home? Was Kumajello wrong? How—"

"Alfred!" The Brit nearly shouted, despite how ungentlemanly it felt to interrupt. "Matthew is fine. He just got a small bump on the noggin, nothing to worry about." He truthfully did not know how badly he was hit on the head, but the lad sounded okay. "He is going to sleep over at Gilbert's house tonight."

Alfred grit his teeth, and Arthur could practically see him fuming. "I don't want Mattie over at a pervert's house all night! What if that guy molests Mattie? Or hurts him? OH MY GOD HE'S ALREADY DEAD ISN'T HE?!"

Alfred started hyperventilating and Arthur (barely) resisted face-palming. "Alfred, he will be fine. I trust Matthew's judgement. Don't you?"

Alfred was torn between arguing that the German— ahem, _Prussian_ —was a pedophile bent on violating his baby brother, and admitting that he did trust Mattie and by extension, his decision. The American was still very much upset that he'd made his Mattie cry so instead of demanding to "rescue" (read: kidnap) his twin because he was "the hero" (read; an idiot), he just grumbled unhappily.

"Fine, whatever. . ." Arthur smiled at the words. Perhaps his daft friend was finally growing out of that hero complex of his? But then he got that moronic grin and shouted "Hay Iggy, let's go to Micky D's!" and started pulling the Brit by the arm.

"You twat! Why would I ever _willingly_ eat that greasy rubbish?" Arthur struggled, desperately trying to get away before his friend shoved that vomit-inducing garbage down his throat. He shuddered.

Alfred gasped loudly. "It's not 'rubbish', it's, like, the best food on the planet! I know what'll make ya feel better. . . A BIG MAC!" And with that, the loud American ignored the protests and dragged his friend to the nearest McDonalds.

Kumajirou trailed behind, deep in thought. Was this guy (what was his name again? Gabriel? Gimli? Whatever.) the one who had helped his master? What was he like? Kumajirou would just have to have a little _talk_ with him, wouldn't he?

* * *

Matthew sighed. He hoped Al wasn't trying to "be the hero" again.

"Hey Birdie." Gilbert said, pulling Matthew from his thoughts. "_Mein bruder_ has some pillows. Sit up?" Matthew did as he was told and tried to ignore the wave of dizziness that washed over him. The blonde— Gilbert's brother? —strategically placed white pillows behind him, and the albino motioned for Matthew to lie down again. Despite how fluffy and soft the cloud-like pillows were, the back of his head started to throb and he quietly groaned. "Does your head hurt?" Matthew nodded lightly. Gilbert gently lifted Birdie up to place the icepack on the hurt part of his head. From being bashed against a brick wall the Canadian had gotten a dark bruise and a small cut that had bled a fair bit. It was no wonder he had passed out! "Why don't you get some sleep, Birdie?"

"_Bruder, wie kann ich helfen?_ [Brother, how can I help?]" Ludwig hated to feel useless, and right now he wished he knew how to help.

Gilbert smiled at him. "_Mach dir keine Sorgen, Birdie muss nur schlafen. Ich bleibe hier unten mit ihm. _[Don't worry, Birdie just needs sleep. I'll stay down here with him.]"

Matthew's eye lids suddenly felt extremely heavy. He vaguely heard footsteps fade away and a familiar voice murmur "You are trouble in your own special way, _kleine vogel_."

Matthew woke up the following morning to someone shouting in another language. _Gilbert?_ he thought groggily and upon opening his eyes saw something he wouldn't have believed unless he had seen it for himself. Gilbert— wearing only a pair of boxers designed like the Prussian flag decorated with little red hearts all over —was eating Lucky Charms (trademark) with what looked suspiciously like beer in lieu of milk and. . . .was he yelling at Dora the Explorer (trademark) in German?

"_Verdammt Dora, du blöder Idiot! Die Geburtstagsparty ist RICHTIG, ES! Sind Sie __**blind**__?! Sie brauchen nicht das Singen Karte!_"

Yes. Gilbert was screaming at a children's show.

"Gil? What are you doing?"

Gilbert turned to him with a look of confusion. "Did you just call me 'Gil'?"

Matthew blushed and started to apologize. "I'm sorry, I guess I wasn't thinking. . . I can call you 'Gilbert' if you prefer—"

"_Kesesesese~_" The albino laughed and smiled at Birdie. "Simmer down, Birdie! It's about time you gave me a nickname! I don't go around calling you _Maddhew_, do I?"

Matthew cracked a smile. "So you actually know my name? That's a surprise." _Even though you pronounced it different. . ._

Gilbert chucked a pillow into the Canadian's face and felt his mouth quirk into a smirk. "You certainly are acting _sassy_ this morning!"

He pushed the pillow away to grin knowingly at his boxer-clad friend. "Hey, at least I won't be late for school."

"What're you talking about— it's only seven thirty! I got plenty of time for gettin' ready!"

Matthew cringed internally. "Please never attempt the English language ever again." Then explained: "We'll it may have been seven thirty when you started verbally abusing a fictional Spanish kid, but it's eight-ten now."

"_Scheiße!_" He yelled and hopped from the couch nearly spilling alcohol-soaked marshmallows everywhere, giving the Canadian a good view of what was printed on the back of his boxers: "_GEFÄlLLT IHNEN WAS SIE SEHEN?_" Matthew just watched, laughing, as Gilbert attempted brushing his teeth and pulling on pants at the same time. Eventually he emerged into the living room, somehow making the style of just-rolled-out-of-bed look like one of those photo shoots— _just kidding~!_ It looked like he was dragged backwards through a shrub. "Let's go, Birdie!"

Matthew stood, relieved that the dizziness and pain in his head had ebbed away, and followed Gilbert out the door.

_~Monsieur Timeskip de cinq minutes~_

"Ah, we made it just in time!" Matthew sighed, glad they hadn't been late.

"Ja, _großvater_ woulda killed me if. . .hey, what's happening over there?" The albino's eyebrows crinkled in puzzlement as he pointed to a mosh pit of students about fifty feet from the entrance of Hetalia HS.

Curious, Matthew began walking over. _What's going on?_ He thought. _A fight?_ Then he heard someone shout "ALFRED YOU BLOODY YANK, STOP THIS!" Was that. . . Arthur? Matthew then started to run to the crowd, mind racing. _Why is Arthur yelling? Didn't he say "Alfred"? Oh jeez. . .what's Al done now?_ He pushed his way through the mob, feeling somewhat confident, until someone grabbed both his arms.

"_Oh, mon pauvre bébé!_" Crooning in French, said person pulled the little Canadian into a crushing hug. He smelled roses and wine, then realized who was hugging him.

"Francis?" he tried, unsuccessfully, to escape the hug but the Frenchman had other ideas. "_Savez-vous ce qui se passe?_"

Francis ignored him, still rocking Matthew in his arms. "_Oh mon chéri! Pourquoi serait-ce l'homme des cavernes n'ose blesser mon cher cousin?_"

"Eh?" he questioned, finally releasing himself to look Francis in the eye. "_Comment savez-vous cela? Avez—_"

"_Mon chou! Votre visage est meurtri! Êtes-vous d'accord?_"

"Francis!" Matthew shouted— which was just a normal speaking level, but it shocked Francis nonetheless —looking hard at his cousin. Sea-blue eyes studied him curiously, and he insisted (in English) "What is happening?"

Francis conceded. "Alfred is fighting that _méchant_ who injured you!"

Without another word, Matthew shoved through the swarm and made his way to the center. He spotted Arthur and sprinted over to him. "Arthur!"

Arthur looked over and the Canadian could see the worry on his features mixed with irritation. "Matthew! Wh—"

"What happened?" he interrogated, skipping any forced pleasantries.

Arthur didn't waste a second. "Alfred and I arrived at school, on time might I add, and he saw the Cuban talking to that fellow who smokes all the time," Matthew nodded, he knew Lars fairly well. "We'll he stomped right over, screaming and cursing at him for injuring you so. I'll admit that he was ashamed and wanted to apologize to you, and something about ice cream. . . Anyways, Alfred threatened him to never go near you again, the Cuban fellow got angry and started arguing, and Alfred— the fool —thought it was a good idea to punch him, and here we are."

As soon as the explanation was done, Matthew faced the eye of the storm— sure enough, Alfred and Carlos had raised fists and both sported bruises and bleeding noses, getting in punches and knees whenever they could. Al took a swing at the Cuban, who simply blocked it and hit him in the chest. Angered, the blonde punched Carlos in the jaw hard enough to hear a _crack!-_like sound but that didn't deter him from retaliating by kicking the American in the stomach. Al wheezed and Carlos stole the opportunity to crash his fist down, dropping his twin to the ground. The Cuban wound his bloodied fist back and—

"CARLOS BERNARDO CRUZ DON'T YOU DARE!"

Carlos whipped his head around to face who addresses him, then softened when he saw his Canadian friend. _Wait. . ._ he realized. _Did Matt just __**yell**__?_

Angry, Matthew walked (read: stomped saucily) over to his brother and yanked him to his feet. "Alfred Foster Jones," Al cringed at being full-named. "how dare you get in a fight with someone! Can't you saddle your raging hormones for _twenty minutes?_"

"But!" Al whined. "But he was beating you up Mattie! I _had ta_ to something! 'Cos I'm the hero!"

Matthew shook his head. "Haven't you ever heard the expression 'two wrongs don't make a right'?"

"No. Wha'sat?"

_SLAP._ Matthew knew his twin had heard it before, the idiot just had selective hearing! He grabbed both Al's and Carlos's biceps and pulled the two toward the school. "We're going to the nurse to dress your wounds then I'm taking you _both_ to the discipline office." The sea of mobbing students parted to let the three through. Before heading through the front doors, the Canadian paused in front of the Bad Touch Trio— somehow in the madness they had located one another. He directed a small smile to a certain albino and said "I'll talk to you later, Gil." Then pulled the flustered troublemakers along.

Gilbert watched the shy blonde boy from yesterday transform into a confident, adult-like person all in the span of two minutes. The stringy 5'1 kid had walked in the middle of a deathmatch (okay, not seriously _death_, but those two were willing to beat the ever-loving crap out of each other) between a couple of tall, built guys, scolded them in front of half the student body, then dragged them away to fix them up and bring them to the dean. What a kid!

He laughed.

"_Kesesesese~_ did Birdie just get even more _awesome_?" He chuckled to himself, still not altogether sure that had really happened.

A sigh was heard beside him. "_Oui_. Hell hath no fury. . . .like an upset Mathieu."

Gilbert glanced back at where his Birdie had gone. He had to see _that side_ of Birdie more~!

* * *

**Translations:**

**(German)**

**_ahorn_**** - maple**

**_großvater_**** - grandfather**

**_dumm_**** - stupid **

**_Sohn Von einer Hure_**** - do I need to translate this one? **

**_Narr_**** - fool **

**_Hause_**** - house **

**_Ja, wirklich_**** - yes, really**

**_kleine Vogel_**** - little bird**

**_Verdammt Dora, du blöder Idiot! Die Geburtstagsparty ist RICHTIG, ES! Sind Sie _****_blind_****_?! Sie brauchen nicht das Singen Karte!_****_- _****Damn it Dora, you stupid idiot! The birthday party is RIGHT THERE! Are you ****_blind_****?! You don't need the singing map! **

**_GEFÄlLLT IHNEN WAS SIE SEHEN?_**** - LIKE WHAT YOU SEE?**

**(French)**

**_Monsieur Timeskip de cinq minutes _****- Mister Timeskip of five minutes**

**_Oh, mon pauvre bébé!_**** - Oh my poor baby!**

**_Savez-vous ce qui se passe?_**** - Do you know what's happening?**

**_Oh mon chéri! Pourquoi serait-ce l'homme des cavernes n'ose blesser mon cher cousin?_**** - Oh my dearest! Why would that caveman dare hurt my dear cousin?**

**_Comment savez-vous cela? Avez— _****- How do you know about that? Did—**

**_Mon chou! Votre visage est meurtri! Êtes-vous d'accord? _****- My cabbage! Your face is bruised! Are you okay?**

**_méchant _****- evil man**

**(Also, I'm Californian [American] so I hope I was correct in discreetly mentioning that Germans call cell phones a "Handy", English call it a "mobile", but in America it's a "cell")**

**Vóila! Violence for my children~**

**Why do I get the feeling Gilbert's up to no good. . .? ****_Oh, that silly ne'erdowell~!_**

**So that yelling-at-Dora-the-Explorer stuff actually happened to me. I was bored at home when I saw that Dora was live streaming on Netflix. So (like any average person would do) I started watching it, but then I was getting frustrated and the next thing I know I'm up on the couch shouting at the TV and my older sister comes downstairs like "GINGER WHAT ARE YOU DOING" and I go "DORA'S BEING AN IDIOT" then she says "IT IS A CHILDREN'S SHOW NOW GO DO SOMETHING NOT STUPID" and after that I decided to watch a movie. So. . . .yup, I'm strange! (~^o^)~**

**Did anyone guess that it was Ludwig who saved our resident Canadian? If so, I present you with 5 Kudos~**

**I hope all of you appreciate that I wrote and typed this with an injured hand! I had broken glass in my backpack (long story) so I got a few cuts on my left hand. You wish I was kidding.**

**Sooooooooo review or I take away Gilbert's alcohol!**

**Gilbert: *sobs* FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY ****_NO!_**

**Ginge: Hush, my author powers surpass you.**

**PS, guys, I have finals next Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday so I may be a few days late. *hides behind Alfred***

**Until next time, mein children!**

**~Ginge**


	6. The Gilbert Awards

**Bonjour lá, mon enfants!**

**Sorry for the lateness, I had to take my six finals this week. TT_TT But I had Norge resurrect me from my stress-induced death so I could upload this! (also I didn't want to miss Christmas) *high-fives Norge***

**Reading all the reviews I get makes me cry tears of joy and I don't know what I would do without my children~! So this is my Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanza/Boxing Day/whatever be your religion/general December-centered present to you! I hope it satisfies the insatiable appetites of fangirls. . .**

**Also, the song You're the Jerk of the Week (by Parry Gripp) is mentioned so if you want to get the gist of the scene feel free to listen to it on Youtube.**

**Warning: This is a warning and you have been warned of minimal language (mostly edited), Gilbert doing fun things and such.**

**Enjoy, my children~**

* * *

"Ow ow ow ow, Mattie! Why's it gotta sting so bad?" Matthew paused in cleaning his brother's split lip just long enough to shoot him a glare that clearly said _Go ahead and complain, I DARE you_. To spite him, the Canadian drenched the cotton ball in peroxide and roughly compressed it to the bloody cut. Wincing, Alfred held back the manly hero-like squeak of pain and watched his twin prepare a make-shift ice pack out of a plastic baggie and ice from a cooler.

"Hold this to your eye." he instructed mechanically. Alfred hesitantly reached up to keep the ice in place and avoided his normally passive little brother's heated glares. Matthew spun around to study his Cuban friend who was looking away embarrassedly. "Carlos, let me see that bruise on your jaw." He turned his head skyward silently, not wanting to invoke the wrath of Matthew.

As the blonde made a second icepack, Carlos said, still averting his eyes to the floor, "Matt, _lo siento. Era stúpido y–_"

"Carlos." The Cuban looked up when addressed to see Matthew giving him a small smile. "I know you're sorry. Thank you for that. I'm not really mad with you, either of you," at this he smiled at his brother as well. "I just don't want you guys getting into fistfights over trivial things, or really to fight _at all_. Could you two just stop arguing every single time you see each other?" The bruised teens glanced at one another over the blonde's shoulder and a silent agreement was made between them two.

_I hate you, and I won't stop hating you but I won't do anything for Matthew's sake._

Alfred shot a heroic grin and yelled "A'course, Mattie! I'd do anything for ya! Cuz I'm the HERO!" He laughed loudly and Matthew just rolled his eyes.

"Sure you are, Al. That's why you always need to sleep in my bed after we have horror movie marathons."

Al scoffed nervously and declared "I do not! I'm just, uh, keeping you company! Yeah, heroes need to make sure their little bros aren't scared! Ha-ha!"

Matthew cracked a smirk. "I didn't know heroes squealed like schoolgirls whenever the house settles at night."

Alfred then jumped out of the cot he was sitting on and pointed accusingly at his twin. "That **[maple]** is scary as hell and you know it! Houses aren't supposed to sound like they're possessed!"

There was boisterous laughter and Carlos, wheezing through chuckling, said "You have to cuddle with your little brother because your house creaks? Oh, that's too good!"

Before Alfred could start a fight (again), Matthew held his hands out between the two troublemakers as if to restrain them. "Alright, alright, kids. No need to get in even more trouble, eh. I'm nearly done and then you both are going straight to the discipline office, okay?"

The American groaned loudly. "_Aaaaawwwwwhh!_ But I don't really wanna do that! Hey, er," he stared at Matthew, looking baffled. "who're you again?"

Matthew ignored the feeling of hollowness in his chest as he forced a smile on his features. "I'm Matthew, your brother."

Al got a brilliant grin and grabbed the Canadian's shoulders. "I got a brother? Coolio!"

He, in turn, shrugged out of his grip and headed for the cabinet to take a large, square bandaid. _Just don't cry, Matt._ The blonde sniffed, blinking away any dampness of his eyes, and turned back to his friend. "Let me clean up that cut on your face, eh." He snatched up a tube of Neosporin and gently applied a dab to a lengthy scratch made from Alfred's class ring. Carlos cringed slightly but said nothing. Soon Matthew lightly patted the bandaid in place and gave a reassuring smile to his Cuban friend. "You two are going to be fine, even though I can't do anything about that oversized pride of yours." Carlos beamed, revealing pearly white teeth. Matthew shyly smiled back. "Okay, now that you guys are all patched up you're going to Mr. Zwingli."

All three of them shuddered at the name of the infamously strict (read: terrifying) head of the discipline office. No one wanted to mess with him, especially since he had (somehow) gotten permission to keep a gun somewhere in his office, and not to mention how protective he was of his little sister and particularly trigger-happy he would get when it came to her. There was a rumor around school that the last guy to ask Lilli out on a date had been sent to the hospital the following day for a gunshot wound. Did Matthew believe that? He honestly wouldn't be surprised.

Alfred wasn't exactly sure why but he found himself obeying the little blonde, not wanting to make him upset. Carlos immediately stood up as Matthew took their wrists and led them out into the hall toward the main offices.

The secretary, whose name tag said "Ms. Oberhauser", greeted snippily "Well what do you two want?"

"We need to see Mr. Zwingli." Matthew replied and after a rousing session of 'Who said that?' 'I did.' 'Who?', she pointed them in the direction of the office they were looking for. As they entered, the three saw a very stressed-looking blonde behind a desk so organized it could only be described as military. "Mr. Zwingli, I-I have something to t-tell you. . ." To say Matthew was nervous to talk to a staff member/trained gunman would be a gross understatement. But Mr. Zwingli just kept typing whatever it was he was doing on the computer, showing no sign of having heard the quiet Canadian. "Mr. Zwingli?" he called louder, but was still unheard. Sighing, Matthew pushed his companions forward and said "Al, you know what to do. I should go back to class. . ."

Al shined his thousand-watt grin and shouted "Ya got it, hoss!" which successfully got the professor's attention.

"What are you doing here? You two should be in class!"

"Well. . .heh. . .ya see–"

Matthew trudged away, not listening anymore to Mr. Zwingli chewing out his twin and his friend. He sighed heavily and slowly walked down the lonely corridor as he shoved his hands in the front pocket of his red sweatshirt, studying the ground. _Why am I so forgettable? According to Arthur Alfred got in that fight with Carlos over me, so why can't he remember me? I'm his brother– his _twin_, no less! –but he still manages to forget I exist. Do I really exist if no one acknowledges my life? My name? Even Kumamatata doesn't know who feeds him! Then why. . .why do I even exist if no one knows who I a–_

Less than a second later Matthew found himself lying on dirty linoleum flooring and something heavy on top of him. He gasped for air as his bruises decided it was a good time to remind their victim how hard he had been hit.

"_Hei Birdie! Was ist los_?" The familiar voice of a certain Prussian '_kesesese_'d.

Matthew could only gape like a fish out of water and point to his chest. "C-can't. . .breathe. . ."

"Huh? _Oh gott_!" The weight disappeared and Matthew could get air again regardless of the bruises. "_Es tut mir leid!_ Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just. . ." he groaned. "hurting a little. . ."

Gilbert growled and started angrily mumbling to himself. "_Gilbert du Idiot! Birdie hat eine Verletzung und Aie behandelt ihn praktish! Dumm! Ach ja,_ I just remembered!" He crouched down and sat on his ankles to look straight at Matthew where he could see an especially mischievous look in his countenance. "I've got something _awesome_ to show you."

"Um. . ." Matthew wanted to avoid saying that being plowed down by a 170 lb.+ teenage boy had made his bruises start throbbing. "I can't. . .really get up. . .right now. . ."

The albino looked pained for a moment. "Your ribs?" When Matthew nodded, Gilbert got a smirk that made the blonde feel vaguely afraid for his well-being. "Don't worry Birdie, I gotcha!" Leaning down, Gilbert put one arm around his back and hooked the other under his knees, carrying him bridal-style. _Again_.

Matthew sighed and resigned himself to the fact that Gilbert had him and there was nothing he could really do about it. "Gil, where are we going? Mr. Edelstein's room is back that wa–"

_"RAINDROPS ON ROSES AND WHISKERS ON KITTENS~_

_"BRIGHT COPPER KETTLES AND WARM WOOLEN MITTENS~"_

"Gil!" Matthew interrupted Gilbert's screamed rendition of the _Sound of Music_ song. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"Shutting you up." A corner of his mouth quirked up and in the close quarters Matthew noticed a single canine tooth was sharper than the others. "_Und es funktionierte total!_ Here we are~"

Matthew saw the classroom they were headed to was one of the two cooking labs but there were no Home Ec. classes in the first half of the day, so what was he doing? "Gil, what are we doing here?"

"Well," Gilbert set the Canadian atop a counter and switched the TV stationed on the wall on. "I have something special planned for today's bulletin and I should probably hide out here until the heat dies down and everyone forgets about it."

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think that's how it works?"

Gilbert hooped on the counter beside his friend. "Yuppers~! How hush up and watch the bulletin."

Just a minute later of waiting and the school channel turned to the bulletin at 8:30 exactly.

One of the most popular girls came on the screen (no doubt how she got the "newscaster" job) and began cheerfully, "Good morning and welcome to the HHS bulletin! It's a gorgeous day in Hetalia. . ."

Matthew began "What's so special about–"

"_Ssh!_" Gilbert slapped a hand over his friend's face. "Just wait!"

~somewhere in the school~

"I don't know how Gilbert got me to do this. . ." Eduard grumbled as he typed away on a laptop in the Tech Lab.

The screen displayed a question and Eduard pondered which he valued more, a clean permanent record or a decent reputation.

"_Kurat!_" He cursed that German and his stupid blackmail.

**_Would you like to interrupt live feed?_**

**[Yes]** [No]

~The School Bulletin~

"So be sure to buy tickets to the play this Fri–"

*snow*

_Gilbert, excited, slapped Matthew on the arm repeatedly. "This is it!"_

A drumroll sounded and Gilbert dressed in a tuxedo shirt stepped onto what looked like the HHS theater stage to a studio-audience-applause track. He shot a winning smile to the camera and placed his hands on the light-colored wood podium as the "cheering" faded.

"Good morning and welcome to. . .The Gilbert Awards~!"

_"'The Gilbert Awards'?" Matthew said questioningly._

_"Just shut up and watch!"_

"As you all know, The Gilbert Awards congratulate Hetalia students for all the spectacular failures that we all love and thoroughly enjoy~

"Our first award is for the Best Couple, and the winner is ~ ~ ~ Michelle! Happy two month anniversary, you crazy lovebird~!"

_A scream could be heard throughout the hallways. "Gilbert Beilschmidt losque je vous trouve je pélera doucement la peau de votre _**_[érable]_**_!"_

_Matthew turned to Gilbert and whispered "She didn't want her relationship public did she?"_

_Gilbert giggled (manly-like). "No she did not!"_

"The next award for the Worst Hair Day is given to ~ ~ ~ Bella, for her hilarious hairstyle last Thursday– but _really_ who could forget that?" He heartily laughed.

_"Oh u verachtelijke _**_[maple]_**_!" Someone (it wan't hard to guess who) yelled._

"Next is Who Epicly Failed a Test and it goes hands-down to Feli Vargas, who posed for this picture for me!" Immediately following, a picture of Feliciano was displayed– the cheery Italian was flashing his trademark closed-eyed smile, holding up a math test that said "+2/35"

_"Bruder!" A familiar voice shouted._

_"Gilbert, is your favorite activity making people pissed at you?" Matthew asked, amused._

_"Nah. . .it's just a pastime."_

"The award for Who Failed Their Driver's Test for the Third Time goes to Austin, and the award for the Stupidest Comment is given to Christian for this beauty, and I quote: 'Like, who the hell is said that?'."*

He smiled again and the Parry Gripp song You're the Jerk of the Week started to play. "And finally, our main award for The Jerk of the Week belongs to ~ ~ ~ Carlos Bernardo Cruz and Mathias Køhler~! And I hoped our administration staff is paying attention, because those two students are responsible for this~!"

* * *

Matthew paled as four pictures came on the television set, and no doubt on the screens of every TV all over the school– the first was of the bedlam of bruises across Matthew's ribs, the bruise and slightly bloodied cut on the back of his head, pale handprints and and dark red half-moons of fingernail indentations residing on his forearms, and lastly a close-up picture of an unconscious Matthew that clearly showed the green-bruise bruise across his face.

"G-Gil? What–I mea–why–?"

"I couldn't let that go unnoticed." he answered simply.

Matthew couldn't believe that someone he'd known for less than a day had done that for him. "You. . .you put me in your fake awards show because you wanted Carlos and Mathias to get in trouble?"

"What? No, of course not!" He sent a lazy grin to his Canadian friend. "I _made_ that whole fake awards show for you."

"I–I–but. . ." Matthew could not even try to fathom why a near stranger who do that for him when his twin, who had lived in the same house as him for over sixteen years, forgot he had a brother in less than fifteen minutes. "Wh–why?"

"I told you Birdie." Gilbert smiled– and not a I-know-something-you-don't-know smirk, but a genuine smile. "You're my super mega bestest friend."

A little shocked Gilbert had even remembered any of that and that he had done something to help him like this, risking getting in a lot of trouble for it too, Matthew returned the sentiment. "Thank you, Gil. You have no idea how much that means to me."

"I _did_ promise you wouldn't be forgotten anymore, didn't I?"

The blonde chuckled. "That you did. But. . .um. . ." Gilbert cocked his head a but in anticipation. "was that worth getting in all this trouble, eh?"

Gilbert looked insulted and pressed a hand against his chest where his heart was. "Oh, you wound me, Birdie! Of course it's worth it for _mein Freund_!"

Matthew smiled again. _I guess. . .we are friends._ There was the distinct sound of shouting outside that made Gilbert tense slightly.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt come here _right this instant!_ You are in _so much_ trouble!"

"Still worth it, Gil?" Matthew felt himself smirk lightly.

"_Scheiße_."

* * *

**Translations:**

**(German)**

**_Hei Birdie! Was ist los?_**** - Hey Birdie! What's going on?**

**_Oh gott! Es tut mir leid!_**** - Oh God! I'm so sorry!**

**_Gilbert du Idiot! Birdie hat eine Verletzung und Aie behandelt ihn praktish! Dumm! Ach ja - _****Gilbert you idiot! Birdie has an injury and you practically tackled him! Stupid! Oh yeah**

**_Und es funktionierte total!_**** - And it totally worked!**

**_Mein Fruend_**** - my friend**

**(Spanish)**

**_lo siento. Era stúpido y– -_**** I'm sorry. I was stupid and–**

**(Estonian)**

**_Kurat!_**** - Damn it!**

**(French)**

**_Gilbert Beilschmidt losque je vous trouve je pélera doucement la peau de votre [érable]!_**** - Gilbert Beilschmidt when I find you I will slowly peel the skin off of your [maple]!**

**(Dutch)**

**_Oh u verachtelijke [maple]!_**** - Oh you despicable [maple]!**

**I hope all of you enjoyed The Gilbert Awards! (Did you get that it's like The Tony Awards, only "Gilbert". . .? No. . .? Okay..)**

**I was listening to Parry Gripp the other day (like I do) when I found You're the Jerk of the Week and I was like WAIT A SECOND. Then I used that, and my sister helped me to come up with awards. Also, the * is to mention that those two OCs Austin and Christian are two people at my school who hate me and are mean so. . . I got my revenge~ ^^ The quote is something that someone said in my English class and I just wanted to slam my head on the desk.**

**Sorry for the late update! *bows repeatedly* Also, I had an idea up in my brain/head area! If you guys want to get to know ThatOneGingerKid better, hows about each of my followers PM's or reviews at least one question and I'll put it on my profile page? You can ask normal BORING things like "What's your favorite movie?" or "How old are you?". . . ~OR~ you could be creative and ask something that is. . . Gilbert, would you like to do the honors?**

**Gilbert: AWESOME~! So hurry up and think up something awesome for the awesome Ginger and if it's awesome enough then the chances of getting it posted on the awesome profile page will be awesomer~**

**Thank you. So review or Francis gets stuck in a chastity belt.**

**Until next time, mein children! Happy holidays!**

**~Ginge**


	7. A Night of Prussia Part 1

**Hello, children~**

**Excuses for the wait at the bottom.**

**Y'all know the drill; I love you, Hetalia is not mine, Warnings of minimal language, la-di-dah.**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

_So how long are you suspended?_

_-Matthew Williams_

**Just till the end of the week LOL coulda tote bin woes**

**-AWSUM**

_"Woes"?_

_-Matthew Williams_

**WORSE. Verdant!**

**-AWSUM**

**VERDAMMT! Autocorrect stop screwing w my swear words, mother forklift!**

**-AWSUM**

_Hahahahahaha! I am crying!_

_-Matthew Williams_

**Shut up, Manado!**

**-AWSUM**

**. . . . Canadian.**

**-AWSUM**

**i give up on life.**

**-AWSUM**

_Am I assuming that we're still on for tomorrow?_

_-Matthew Williams_

**Of freakin course we r! y wouldnt we b?**

**-AWSUM**

_Just making sure that you hadn't forgotten._

_-Matthew Williams_

**no wut? u can just SHUTUP cuz im not gonna forget u EVER**

**-AWSUM**

_Thanks :) Even though your grammar makes me want to throw a dictionary at you._

_-Matthew Williams_

**ROFLOL Birdie is frech 2day!**

**-AWSUM**

_You know that I don't speak German, right?_

_-Matthew Williams_

**Möglicherweise spreche ich deshalb ich Deutsches! Sie sind wirklich, Birdie zu nett!**

**-AWSUM**

_. . .why do I get the feeling that's you're calling me something derogatory? Deux peuvent jour à ce jeu, vous savez._

_-Matthew Williams_

**Sie fungieren wie Sie erhielten mich, Birdie, aber Sie zweifeln, dass Google Translate.**

**-AWSUM**

_Je ne suis pas stupide, Gil. Porquoi parlons-nous dans différents langages, quoi qu'il en soit ?_

_-Matthew Williams_

**...english?**

**-AWSUM**

_Yeah._

_-Matthew Williams_

**So ill pick u up 530 2morrow, ja?**

**-AWSUM**

_Sure. Wait, you don't know where I live._

_-Matthew Williams_

**Ja i do. }:D**

**-AWSUM**

_Um. . .do I want to know?_

_-Matthew Williams_

**HAHAHA**

**-AWSUM**

That off-putting text was the only response that Matthew could get out of his friend and he couldn't help but think _What am I getting myself into?_

~Timeskip Brought to You by Laziness~

By Friday afternoon, Matthew had gotten at least seventeen apology text messages from a certain Cuban despite his insistence that Carlos had already been forgiven. Once Carlos had even tried bringing Maple Crunch ice cream (which made Matthew salivate just thinking about) to his friend's house to beg for (already given) forgiveness but Alfred (upon remembering who this "Matthew" person was that his enemy was offering ice cream to) kicked him out and yelled something to the effect of "Keep your Communist ways away from my little brother" before slamming the door. Of course Matthew vehemently apologized for his brother's. . .well. . .pretty much everything, but Carlos just shrugged it off. Even Alfred, when he remembered what had happened between the two, had apologized for yelling at his twin and for acting so unkind and saying things he didn't mean even a tiny bit. Matthew, or course, forgave him but his brother, too, did several things to make sure he didn't hold a grudge. Matthew persisted in telling him he was forgiven every time, but thought of reneging when he brought him McDonalds.

Matthew walked into the kitchen with the intention of making pancakes (mmm, pancakes!) when, out of nowhere, Alfred plowed into him from behind as he yelled something about making him lunch.

"Al," Matthew began once he had sat up and didn't have a face full of floor. "it's four in the afternoon, I'd say it's a little too late for lunch, eh?" he commented, apparently ignoring the fact that he, himself, was planning on making the sugary food.

Al went into full-on pout mode as he tugged on Matthew's sleeve as he whined loudly "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssss ssssssssssssssssssssssssssss sssssss—"

"Okay!" he shouted (which was just lower than an inside-voice level) in exasperation, before turning to his twin now that he had ceased his squealing. "Hey Al?" he began.

"Ya? 'Sup?" The blond looked curiously at him.

"Do you know what my name is?"

"'Course I do! You're. . ." Al confusedly faded from the confident tone. "It's, uh. . .hmm,"

Matthew started on making the pancakes, ignoring his twin's failed attempts at remembering his name. He usually gave up and forgot after about a minute, Matthew supposed he was determined to guess correctly.

"Uh. . .Martin? No. . . Malcolm?" he heard the blond mumble.

Matthew searched the cabinets for something to put in the pancakes. _Hm. . ._ he rummaged around as he mixed the batter (a skill he perfected years ago). _do we have any chocolate chips?_

"M. . .ason? . . .Marty?"

_Looks like we have butterscotch and vanilla chips. . .wonder if they'll taste good together? Well, only one way to find out._ Matthew loved to experiment in the kitchen, especially with his favorite food.

As he began to pour a mix of chips in, the Canadian heard their doorbell ring several times. Al continued to stand in the middle of the kitchen and murmur to himself (like a crazy person). As Matthew was pouring thick batter circles on the griddle, he couldn't very well leave it to burn, right? Matthew _didn't_ want to live in a world where he would ruin pancakes— they were like his precious children, they must be perfect or he would be forever shamed and bring dishonor on himself and his children (the humans, not the pancakes).

"Hey Al, could you get that?"

Alfred ceased his mumbling momentarily as he looked at his brother. "What'd ya say?"

"Could you get the door? I can't really leave the stove or—"

"THE HERO'LL GEDDIT, MATTIE!" he shouted loudly and raced right over to the front door.

Matthew cringed at his grammer (or lack thereof) and then failed to resist the urge to face-palm. _Al,_ Matthew thought _I love you, but you're an idiot._

From the kitchen, the blond could hear the door open and then Al yell something. Of course, with that loud voice of his— Alfred himself is a human megaphone— Matthew heard every word.

"_Beilschmidt_?! What are _you_ doing here!?"

And, _of course_, Gilbert just had to yell back.

"_Kesesese~_ I'm here to hang out with Birdie, _dummkopf_!"

"Oh no you're not! Stay away from my brother, Nazi!"

Matthew sighed and called over his shoulder "It's fine, Al! Let him in!" There were the sounds of a sort of scuffle, then someone ran in the kitchen and used his arm not holding a spatula as a shield.

The Canadian watched the puddles of batter bubble attractively as he commented, without looking up, "What are you doing, Gil?"

"Hey, what are you makin' Birdie?" he said cheerfully, clearly trying to change the subject away from Matt's protective brother.

"Pancakes~" he sang, unable to keep the happy tone out of his voice. He turned to the Prussian with a smile. "Would you like some?"

Gilbert looked slightly shocked at the silly grin on his face, but recovered quickly with a smirk. "_Du weißt, ich __tun_!" At his friend's confused look, he gave a thumbs-up and said "Means yes."

Matt smiled again and continued flipping pancakes as he heard his friend sit at the table. Gilbert watched the fuzziest dog he'd ever seen walk in towards the Canadian. It pawed at his pant legs for a moment. "Hungry."

Gilbert's reaction was instantaneous. "_Oh mein Gott! Warum zum Teufel ist dieser Hund __reden_?!" He shouted as he fell off his seat, pointing fiercely at the white animal.

Matthew turned toward it and gave a warm grin. "Hey there, Kumajason. Want some pancakes?"

He nodded. "With fish."

Meanwhile, Gilbert was having a mental breakdown. "B-Birdie?"

"Yeah?"

"Why is your dog talking?"

Matthew hefted the little pet into his arms and gave him a quick eskimo kiss. "Kumajanis is a polar bear, not a dog."

"_Ein Eisbär_?!"

Kumajirou's little paw gently touched his master's face where he saw a mark and queried in his helium-like voice "Hurt?"

"It's just a bruise. I'm fine." he assured.

"Have more hurts?"

Matthew shifted the bear onto his hip in order to keep turning the pancakes. "Yeah, my chest hurts a little but it's okay."

"'A little'?" Gilbert squeaked in outrage, somewhat over his miniature anuerism. "Birdie, you have four bruised ribs!"

Kuma growled menacingly and snarled one word. "_Kill_."

"No no no, I'm perfectly fine! Besides, Carlos already apologized."

"He said sorry and you just accepted it?"

"Sure did." He replied offhandedly. "Hey Gil, could you grab the box of fish in the freezer?"

Gilbert nodded and moved to take the requested item, still unhappy with how forgiving the blonde was. "I'm still unhappy with how forgiving you are." He handed over the plastic box, who set the polar bear down to take it.

Matthew shrugged. "I'm Canadian, what do you want from me?"

"_Kesesese~_" the Prussian laughed. "You're really funny, Birdie! Ooh,_ ich weiß_! I'm going to make you so confident, you're awesome will be able to match mine!"

"As confident as you? That's impossible." he deadpanned.

"Okay, how about we settle for being able to talk to others?"

"Lower that to socially awkward in general, and you're got yourself a deal."

"Deal." Gilbert hugged his friend to his chest, who was still cooking, and said "Besides, I get to keep you all to myself~"

"Why Mr. Beilschmidt, are you trying to seduce me?" Matthew asked amusedly as he began to flip the tuna pancakes.

"Is it working?" the albino whispered in his ear.

Matthew blushed lightly despite himself. "Not really."

"Then no I'm not."

"Do we need to have the whole 'It's not you it's me', 'we can still be friends' conversation?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"Alrighty then."

Matthew finished the good sized stack of tuna pancakes and set them on a plate. Pouring on maple syrup and turning off the burner, he called "Kuma! Go sit at the table! Gil, could you grab his plate?"

The two swiftly carried the things to the kitchen table and Kuma dug in messily as soon as the food was in front of him. Matthew tossed a napkin to his pet (who he'd been trying desperately to teach table manners) and drenched his own stack in a small lake of maple syrup– Gilbert looking on interestedly.

"Really like maple syrup, don'tcha Birdie?"

"'Like'?" He shook his head slightly, eyes shining. "No,_ love~_"

"_Liebe_. . ." Gil repeated, thoroughly amused with his friend's unwitting show. He poured on what he considered to be a decent amount and took a bite from his stack of about three.

**_BOOM._**

Did you hear that, Reader? That was the sound of Gilbert's brain exploding from the firework of happiness from that bite of Matthew's pancakes. The Prussian could have cried at the wondrous feeling of his tastebuds dancing and singing praises. He was pretty sure that if Disneyland and the joy and laughter of children had a flavor, it would be those pancakes. His mind was riding on a neon pegasus through time and space as he drank from a shining goblet filled with magic. If he had never felt happiness before, that one bite was like having a true purpose in life and falling in love and kittens on rainbows all at once. The maple syrup beautifully cascading down the golden, fluffy stacks of elation personified was like nectar of the gods of paradise and he couldn't have been happier to have the opportunity to partake in such euphoria. Gilbert was suddenly seeing stars and was somewhere between a victorious battle cry to win the hearts of millions and fainting (manly-like) out of sheer joy. In short, his brain was orgasming.

At first he couldn't find any words in the German or English language to speak, so the Prussian settled for tackling his friend to the floor.

"G-Gil?" Matthew was very concerned, when Gil took a bite of his pancakes he just kind of froze and his eyes dilated for a moment. Then, out of nowhere, the ablino pounced on him and they landed on the floor, Gilbert lying on top of him. "Are you okay? W-what's wrong?"

"Birdie. . ." he began with tears in his eyes (but of course he didn't let them fall! He was awesome!) "_Diese Pfannkuchen sind die awesomest Ding im gesamten Universum! Ich könnte weinen, das sind so awesome! Ihr awesomeness fast übertrifft meine eigenen, so dass Sie Gilbert-level awesomeness sind! Würden Sie bitte mich heiraten und machen diese Pfannkuchen für jede Mahlzeit jeden Tag_!?"

"I don't understand German, but I think I heard the word 'awesome' in there. Does that mean you like the pancakes?" he said hopefully. Matthew panicked for a moment there that he had somehow offended his (only) friend.

Gilbert grabbed his shoulders and stared unblinkingly in his eyes with the most serious expression Matt had ever seen. "There aren't words to describe how much I love them." He sniffed, tears making his vision swim. "I think I'm in love with your pancakes– _sniff_ – I could just kiss you!"

The blonde laughed uncomfortably and a light blush dusted his cheeks. "Sorry, I'd like to keep our relationship strictly platonic."

"Whatever. I'm secure."

Gilbert leaned over to kiss his friend out of pure joy, when he heard "Mattie, are the pancakes d– WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY BROTHER, NAZI SUNNUVA **[maple]**?!"

"A-Al, it's fine! He just tasted my pancakes for the first time."

To Gilbert's great surprise, he just laughed and sat at the table. He was expecting the American to rant on about how that wasn't an acceptable excuse and throw him out of the house– possibly into open traffic for good measure –but instead he placed his chin against his up-turned palm propped up on the table and said, smirking, "Orgasmic, right?"

Gilbert's eyes widened. "_Ja_! That is the perfect word to describe them!"

The blond got up and sat at the table again, muttering "I don't see what the big deal is, anyone– coughCanadiancough –can make pancakes. . ."

He felt his arms gripped and looked up to see red eyes staring him down. "Don't you ever say that Birdie. You're the only one who can make pancakey magic."

Matthew smiled. "Thanks, I'm glad you like them."

His brother and friend insisted that his pancakes were like eating ecstasy covered in maple syrup, Matthew laughed, then the three (+ Kumajirou) polished off the rest of the pancakes.

Matthew looked at his watch which read "5:33" and asked "Hey Gil, should we shove off?"

"Huh? What time is it?" Gilbert casually glanced at the screen of his phone, then kept to his feet "_Scheiße_! If we don't hurry, we'll be late! _Lass uns gehen_!" _Time really flies when you're admiring food porn._ Gilbert mused.

Matthew just stood – he had gotten prepared to leave before he made the pancakes –and said "Alright, let's go."

Gilbert grabbed the Canadian's hand and raced out the door to his car– a beat-up, purple truck with a license plate that said "PRUSIAN". Atop his antennae was a yellow foam bird that looked like it had seen better days. Matthew got the feeling that if Gilbert committed a crime (he didn't feel too bad for thinking this, since in the four days he knew the albino he'd gotten suspended and had very nearly been banned from a local hospital), the police would have no problems finding his vehicle.

Gilbert pushed the slow-moving blond to the passenger side and fumbled around for his keys, saying "We gotta go! I made reservations for six o'clock."

"Are we going to a restaurant?" Matthew asked, but the silverette just grinned in response. Matt groped around for a seatbelt to belt himself in, but found nothing. "Hey Gil. . .where are the seat belts?"

"Huh? Oh, when I got the car the seat belts were _sheiße_ so I took 'em out."

Matthew panicked when the Prussian started the car. "W-we need seat belts! We're g-going to get a-arrested!"

Gilbert shot a toothy smirk to his frantic friend. "It's hilarious how you think we're gonna get caught, Birdie."

Twenty minutes and four run red lights later, Gilbert finally parked the car and his poor passenger practically hurled himself on the asphalt to escape the maniac. He gasped, trying to slow his heart from the adrenaline his body pumped in terror from the countless near-death experiences he'd been subjected to in the past twenty minutes alone. "You. . ." he swallowed roughly, attempting to ignore the rabid thumping in his ears. "You. . .are. . .a psychopath. . .!"

The albino simply grinned at the Canadian hunched over the ground on shaky legs. "Kesesesesesese~ don't be so _dramatisch_!"

Matthew glared through his blonde fringe and slowly rose to his feet. He looked around and tentatively asked "Where are we?"

He "tsk"ed and covered his Birdie's eyes as he dragged them two toward a nearby building. "It's a secret, Birdie!"

The blond just gave in and allowed himself to be led into wherever it was the pair were headed. A part of him that still feared for his mortal safety wondered if blindly (literally) placing himself in Gilbert's hands was a good idea, but he chose to ignore it.

"_Kesesesesesesesesesese~_"

. . . . .maybe he should reconsider. After all, running away like a coward was still an option, right?

"Aaaaaaaaaaand. . . _Ta-da_!" Gilbert exclaimed and uncovered his friend's eyes.

Matthew blinked a few times, getting used to the brightness, and when he finally took in what he saw he was torn between laughing hysterically and wondering if Gilbert was sure and, if he was, the stability of his mental health.

He chose disbelief.

"Gil. . . .a bounce house?" Sure enough, Gilbert had led the two of them to Pump It Up, a building filled from top-to-bottom, corner-to-corner with bouncy castles and obstacles courses of pretty much every kind. If being brought to a bouncy house place wasn't embarrassing enough, the place was occupied with solely children. All children.

"_Ja_! Isn't it fun?" Gilbert exclaimed, looking at his friend with a childish gleam in his eye that just made Matt smile.

He nodded. "It's pretty fun."

"Well, come on Birdie! Let's go have fun!" The albino took his hand and led Matthew to the first bounce house.

Matthew smiled. Gilbert was still very much a kid at heart. And wasn't that more fun?

* * *

**Translations: (German)**

**frech - sassy**

**_Möglicherweise spreche ich deshalb ich Deutsches! Sie sind wirklich, Birdie zu nett!_ - Maybe that's why I'm speaking German! You really are too cute, Birdie!**

******_Sie fungieren wie Sie erhielten mich, Birdie, aber Sie zweifeln, dass Google Translate._ - You act like you got me, Birdie, but you doubt Google Translate.**

******___Du weißt, ich __tun_ - You know I do**

******_Oh mein Gott! Warum zum Teufel ist dieser Hund __reden_?! - Oh my God! Why is your dog talking?!**

******_Ein Eisbär_?! - A polar bear?!**

******_ich weiß_ - I know**

******_Diese Pfannkuchen sind die awesomest Ding im gesamten Universum! Ich könnte weinen, das sind so awesome! Ihr awesomeness fast übertrifft meine eigenen, so dass Sie Gilbert-level awesomeness sind! Würden Sie bitte mich heiraten und machen diese Pfannkuchen für jede Mahlzeit jeden Tag_!? - These pancakes are the awesomest thing in the entire universe! I could cry, that's so awesome! Your awesomeness surpasses my own, so you are Gilbert-level awesomeness! Will you please marry me and make these pancakes for every meal every day!?**

******_Lass uns gehen -_ Let's go**

******_dramatisch_ - dramatic**

******(French)**

******Duex peuvent jour à ce jeu, vous savez. - Two can play at that game, you know.**

**_Je ne suis pas stupide, Gil. Porquoi parlons-nous dans différents langages, quoi qu'il en soit ? -_ I'm not stupid, Gil. Why are we speaking in different languages anyways?**

***holds up shield to be protect from readers throwing things* I'm so sorry I was SO late! And here come the excuses. . . first of all I was sick for weeks, including over winter break and I'm just now (kind of) getting over it. *sighs* Eating things is hard. . . Second, I was struggling with depression more than usual and it is actually quite difficult to write fun and happy crap when you feel like curling up in a sock drawer for a few weeks. . . But enough with my rambling!**

**So hopefully I will get the next chapter up in about a week, okay?**

**I DO love all y'all and reviews cheer me up~ 333**

**You can review if you want to, you can leave your friends behind~ 'Cause your friends don't review and if they don't review then they're no friends of mine~**

**Until next time, mein children,**

**~Ginge**


	8. A Night of Prussia Part 2

**Ni hao, children~**

**Sorry for the late update (rhyming!), but here you go! **

**Warnings: Prussia (YOU DON'T SAY!), possible movie spoilers  
**

**Disclaimer: Hetalia, in all of its forms, belongs solely to the great and powerful Hima-papa~**

* * *

After a good two hours of jumping around like lunatics and Gilbert nearly shoving small children out of his way to get on the bouncy obstacle course, the two exited the building– Gilbert ignoring the infuriated parents demanding to the workers that something be done about _"that insane albino!"_ with a grin.

Matthew hesitated as his friend approached the truck of doom. "Er. . .Gil? Do we _have to_ take the death trap?"

Gilbert suddenly leaped into the back of his truck without warning and struck a pose atop the roof. "_N__atürlich_ we do! _Meine liebste_ car goes with me everywhere! Everywhere I go is just like the Indiana Jones Adventure ride and I do not know what I would do without her! She is the love of my life and I will protect her with my life! There is nothing I love more dearly than _mein Auto_!" Gilbert seemed to pause, then looked over at his Canadian friend. "That is, your pancakes are second only to my car."

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "What about Ludwig?"

The Prussian waved a hand nonchalantly. "He's somewhere around fourth or fifth."

This, for whatever reason, struck a certain blond funny and he wrapped both arms around his middle, giggling madly. Gilbert of course couldn't pass up this chance so he vaulted off the top of the vehicle onto the ground beside his friend and threw him over his shoulder.

Matthew, though, couldn't stop chuckling and asked "Gil. . .wh-_heh_-what are you d-_ha_-doing?"

"We are going to our next destination, Birdie~" Gilbert dropped the blond in the passenger seat and began to clamber over him.

"Whoa, Gil, didn't we already discuss the platonic nature of our relationship?" Matthew nervously said, trying to keep in a blush.

The albino groaned pathetically. "But Birdie~! I don't want to have to walk _all the way_ around the car again! _Ich will nicht_!" he whined.

Matthew sighed and said nothing as the heavy teen crawled across his lap, grateful that his ribs were no longer as sore as they had been a few days previous. Now there was only discomfort and slight pain.

"Alright!" Gilbert cheered as he settled in the safety belt-less seat. "It's time for stop number two!"

"How many things are we doing today?" Matthew wondered aloud as he hooked his feet underneath his seat and gripped onto the handle above him.

"Three. Possibly four." He replied, starting the car.

Ready for his friend to drive at light speed, the Canadian nodded absently and clamped his eyes shut just before Gilbert slammed his boot on the gas, very nearly running over an orange tabby cat.

(But let's be real here. Who _really_ cares about the random cat Gilbert almost hit? That cat is just an obscure one-dimensional background character that doesn't even ave a name. This feline has no affect whatsoever on the story at hand. There is no point, really, for the animal to even exist in this made-up world except for comedic purposes. Reader you need not pity the cat because, first and foremost, that car does not exist. I have already used all this time to explain that the cat is fine. End of narration.)

Matthew waited until the car had come to a complete stop and his albino friend laughed "_Kesesese~_ feel free to look now Birdie!" to open his eyes. He saw that Gilbert had driven (read: raced) them to the local cinema, people loved it because it showed several titles at one time and tickets were just above a dollar each. This, Matthew would argue, was one of the best parts about living in a small town. He only wondered what movie his friend had planned to take them to see.

Gilbert watched the blond leave his car on somewhat shaky legs before wrapping his hands over his Birdie's eyes. "Is this a 'surprise' too?" he heard the Canadian quietly comment.

"_Ja_!" the Prussian grinned, excited to gauge his reaction to their feature tonight. Seeing as Gilbert has purchased the tickets beforehand, they bought popcorn and drinks (this was the only time Gilbert let up his hand-blindfold before covering his eyes again) and made their way over to the theater.

"So am I allowed to know the movie?" Matthew asked as his human blindfold navigated the two of them through the aisles of seats.

"_Nein_." he answered simply. "Okay, you can open your eyes now."

Matthew rubbed his eyelids to get used to the lighting in the theater. "Can I have a hint?"

"It's awesome." Gilbert declared, popping a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

"Don't start eating it now! The movie hasn't even began yet!" Matthew exclaimed quietly. "That isn't a clue. 'Awesome' has completely lost its meaning with you."

"Ah dunna wah oh haw-ih bou!" Gilbert mumbled between the snack filling his mouth, accidentally spitting pieces onto the seat in front of him.

"First, that's disgusting." Matthew commented, flicking a spit-ridden popcorn chunk off of his jeans. "Secondly, you know exactly what I'm talking about." He noticed Gilbert's questioning look, and answered "I'm Al's twin, I wouldn't be able to survive in that house if I couldn't translate him talking with a mouth full of food."

The Prussian nodded in understanding, but thought to himself _He shouldn't have to think of himself as that dummkopf's bruder. Alfred is _his_ bruder._ "Oooh, Renee Zellweger!" he called loudly, having solved the Celebrity Name Shuffle.

"_Aw, come on!_" Some random moviegoer yelled irritatedly.

"_Kesesesese~_" Gilbert chuckled, amused.

Matthew gave a small smile, and had to wonder: why in the maple was Gilbert even bothering with someone like Matt? The albino was certainly popular enough that he could be partying with almost anyone he wanted in their school, so why would he willingly spend his spare time with the lonely Canadian?

Suddenly Matthew felt his face being grabbed. "Birdie look the commercials are starting!"

The Canadian smiled – at least, as well as he could while his cheeks were being smushed together – and decided he would have fun with Gilbert until the Prussian found someone else to hang out with and forget Matthew, which was just how it was.

After the commercials, which both teens thought were hilarious, the theater hushed to silence as the title was preceded by dramatic music. Gilbert squeaked happily in anticipation and repeatedly slapped the blond's arm excitedly. "Ooh are you ready Birdie? You ready? You ready? You ready? You ready? You ready? You ready? You ready? You ready? You ready? You ready? You ready? You ready? You ready? You ready? You ready? _Sssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhh!_"

Matthew said nothing but was thoroughly amused by Gil's excitement.

Finally the title came up, and Matthew couldn't help but think that he should have expected something like this. . .

He turned to his friend. "_Breaking Dawn_? Really?"

Gilbert looked offended and fiercely whispered "_This is part two! We'll finally get to know what happens with Renesmee and the Volturi! How can you not be excited?!_"

Trying to resist a smile, the Canadian shrugged. "I haven't seen" (read: avoided the girly movies) "any of the _Twilight_s. I just don't see how a vampire falling in love with an incredibly frustrating human girl is in any way entertaining–"

Gilbert slapped a hand over his face and hissed "Hush your heathen mouth! Twilight is just too awesome for you! Watch the movie!" At Birdie's shrug, the Prussian grinned. "Okay then, if you completely pay attention to the movie and you _don't_ freak out by the end, I will buy you ten bottles of maple syrup."

_Now_ Matthew was listening.

"Are you serious?"

Gilbert smirked (evilly) and said "Awesomely." He stuck his hand out "Deal?"

Matthew took it and replied "Deal." Matthew didn't tell Gilbert that the _good_ maple syrup was just under $10 a bottle.

Gilbert didn't tell Matthew that his money source was really Ludwig's wallet.

_This is way too easy_, the both of them thought.

During the climax of the fight, Gilbert was reduced to tears and Matthew was close behind.

The two watched as the wolf's neck was snapped, and the Prussian sobbed.

"_Es ist nicht fair_!" he cried, and Matthew sniffled.

"I don't like this movie anymore. . ." Matthew muttered.

The albino handed his friend a tissue without daring to look away from the screen or blink. He took the Kleenex and wiped furiously at his nose.

"_Pourquoi avez-vous mourir_?" The French-Canadian cried miserably.

Gilbert cheered "_Ja! Lasst Aro, dass das Böse Sohn eines bekommen–_"

Suddenly it stopped.

"_W-was_?" The Prussian muttered, utterly confused.

The entire theater gasped as the crowd realized what just happened.

Gilbert and Matthew glanced at one another, baffled.

"What just. . ."

". . .happened?"

_In he snowy field, Alice Cullen said "That's your future. . ."_

~After the movie~

"I can't freakin' believe that _Scheiße_!" Gilbert growled, kicking nearby trashcans in fury.

Around, mothers covered their young childrens' ears and glared at the albino. Said Prussian, however, ignored the looks and continued ranting.

"Aren't you glad that they didn't all die, though?" Matthew offered.

"Well, _ja_. . ." Gilbert slowed his trudging. "Know what, Birdie?"

"Hm?" Matthew grunted in response.

"After the book, people freaked out. They were all like _'OMG, Stephanie Meyer! You lied to us! We wanted a war!'_"

Matthew giggled at his friend's mimicking voice, who simply continued on. "So I guess that was her big _'Screw you, fans! You wanted a war? This is what you get, _Narren_!'_" Gilbert flipped his imaginary hair and snapped his fingers like a diva.

The Canadian laughed again and smiled in agreement. "If I had a bunch of ungrateful fans like that, I would probably want to do that too. I bet they didn't even realize that so many people would die."

Gilbert scoffed. "Idiots."

And thus, the two teenage boys discussed Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 2 in full-depth.

Like men.

* * *

**Translations (German):**

**_N__atürlich_ _-_ Of course**

**_Meine liebste_ _-_ My dearest**

**_mein Auto_ - my car**

**_Ich will nicht!_ - I don't wanna!**

**_Es ist nicht fair_ - It's not fair**

**_Ja! Lasst Aro, dass das Böse Sohn eines bekommen– -_ Yes! Let's get Aro, that evil son of a–**

**_Was?_ - What?**

**_Narren_ - fools**

**Translations (French):**

**_Pourquoi avez-vous mourir_? - Why did you have to die?**

**Yes, yes, I suck on insurmountable levels. . .**

**I'm sure you don't want to hear my excuses, so I just want to apologize for both the lateness of this chapter and the shortness . :(**

**So here. *holds out wrists for Reader-san to slap***

**So I have an idea up here in my brain!**

**If my lovely children would like, it would be awesome for my followers so follow my on Twitter.**  
**On there I can Tweet when I'm writing so you can check up on me and badger me if I'm getting lazy. . .**

**I can update and let mein children know why I'm late and all that jazz.**

**If you want, my Twitter account is Poco_Rosso**

**Yes, it means "little red" in Italian, so back off me!**

**Despite my procrastination, I love all my children!**

**_When I click on the spot,_**

**_This's what I see._**

**_Err'ybody's stopped and reviewin' for me!_**

**_I got passion on my page,_**

**_and I ain't afraid to show it, show it, show it,_**

**_You're awesome and you know it!_**

**Until next time, mein children!**

**~Ginge**


	9. A Night of Prussia Part 3

**Hi there, children!**

**OH MAH GAWSH I have FIFTY followers! I love you so so much, without you guys there's no way I could have the strength to go on! T^T**

**I'm oh so grateful you (yes, YOU, not that other kid) enjoy my story and make my life so much better!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own APH, the BTT (unfortunately. . .), or any of the songs sung. You better thank the heavens I don't own Hetalia. . .**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

"So to make a long story short. . ." Gilbert continued on his twenty-minute long rant, entertaining Matthew for free.

"_Too late_." he remarked quietly.

". . ._Twilight_ is awesome!"

"Of course it is Gil." Matthew replied distractedly as the car jerked forward through the now-green light. He had to actively keep his pancakes and popcorn down. "Do you think you could drive like a normal human being now?"

_"What's that, Birdie!?"_ The albino had to shout over the roar of wind around the car and in the wide open windows.

_"How fast are we going?!"_ Matt attempted to yell.

He shrugged. _"Ich weiß nicht, the speedometer is broken!"_

The blond's eyes widened and he shrieked _"We're going to die!"_

Gilbert grinned. _"Now if I go fast enough!"_

_"That is the complete opposite of logic!"_ The truck of death just flew down the street even faster and Matthew had to bite back a very unmanly squeal. _I'm not ready to die!_ he thought. _There are so many things I've never done! I haven't swam in maple syrup, I didn't get to try out for the hockey team, I'll never get to read _House of Hades_! Oh maple, I am going to die a virgin pedestrian!_

Gilbert sped to their next activity, rather excited to get the bespectacled Canadian to let loose and have some fun. It was obvious (at least to the Prussian) that Birdie was too stressed out about pointless stuff — like school. _Pppppppssssssshhhhh!_ — and could seriously do with a lot more partying in his life. He doubted it would be easy for the blond to relax and have fun with him, but Gilbert was up to the challenge.

After what felt like thirty minutes of nonstop Speed Racer driving, the albino _finally_ slowed the truck to a stop. He laughed. "You can breathe now, Birdie!"

Matt released a breath he didn't know he was holding and looked around to see where they were. To the left of the car was some building he had never seen before, upon closer inspection he saw the sign _"Ashton's Pub"_.

"A. . .a bar?" he hesitantly asked. Matthew was fully aware of how much Gilbert loved his alcohol, but he hadn't expected his friend to actually take him out drinking!

"A BAR!" Gilbert yelled happily, clearly enthusiastic about something.

"But why?" he wondered aloud.

"WHY NOT!" he shouted back excitedly. "Well come on! We have to get in soon before something hilarious happens without us!" Gilbert suddenly grabbed his friend's hand, dragging him over the car's median and driver's seat through his door.

Matthew rubbed his backside (slightly sore from its contact with the stick shift) and commented "You know, I could have just gone out from my door."

The white-haired teen pouted. "You have no imagination, Birdie! Why must you insist on doing things the _boring_ way?"

Matt just rolled his eyes.

Gilbert then snatched the blond's wrist, tugging him toward the door of the bar. Some random drunk passerby yelled a very offensive word and as Matthew flushed, embarrassed, the albino shot him a one-finger salute wordlessly. When the two entered the bar they were hit by the strong smell of whiskey and the sounds of boisterous laughter and horribly off-key singing. The pub looked fairly popular and was filled with happy drunks either playing drinking games or waiting to go on stage so as to project their drunken singing.

"AWESOMENESS IS HERE!" Gilbert announced to all the patrons. Matthew was (somehow) surprised when over half of the pub's occupants greeted the Prussian gladly.

_"Gilbert!"_ they cheered, thrusting various drinks in the air as a welcome, though because most of them were barely hanging onto drunk consciousness it sounded more like "jill-bur".

"AND BIRDIE!" he yelled, raising both of the Canadian's arms skyward.

_"Birdie!"_ everyone shouted with varying degrees of slurring, despite how most of them couldn't even see the blond.

Just then familiar voices called out "Gilbo!" Francis and Antonio appeared with wide grins.

"_¡Hola_, Gilly!" The Spaniard said with a glowing smile.

Francis looked slightly confused. "Didn't you say _mon petite cousin_ was coming with you?"

Matthew sighed heavily. "I'm right here, Francis."

Suddenly the Canadian came into Francis's line of sight and he greeted _"Mon Mathieu~!"_ and wrapped his arms around his cousin's waist, twirling the small blond around in the air.

Matthew gripped his shoulders as he got dizzy. _"A-ah, __Je reçois __le vertige, Francis!"_ Francis stopped spinning him around so he could speak properly _"__Bonj-jour Francis,"_ Matthew stuttered, a little overwhelmed by his cousin's sudden display of "_l'amour~_" and by the scent of roses completely filling his nose.

_"Où étiez-vous? J'ai été tellement seule!"_ He queried.

Matthew glanced over his head (a feat only capable as he was being lifted mid-air) to see people of either gender gazing lustfully after the Frenchman. _"Vous n'avez pas l'air si seul."_

Francis tossed his hair melodramatically over his shoulder (without the use of his hands, mind you) and sighed _"Ils ne peuvent tout simplement pas résister à l'amour~!"_

Matt wasn't sure whether he should laugh at his theatrics or be disturbed.

"Hey," Gilbert butt in and took Matthew away from the French teen, holding him in his own arms. "there is _no_ molesting of the Birdie!"

Just then, the blond was being lifted by someone else. He looked up to see Antonio carrying him bridal-style and smiling obliviously. "What're we doing, guys?"

Matthew just chuckled. "Okay, can we stop playing the Steal-the-Canadian game?"

"_Kesesesese~_ I guess so. . . Come on, Tonio, bring him over to the bar."

"What? No, put me down!" He protested, trying to escape the brunet's grasp on him without being dropped on the floor. (He didn't want to think about what could have been on that floor over time)

Antonio set him down on a barstool where he saw a black-haired bartender looking at him humorously. "You're friends with these guys?"

Matthew sighed and glanced over to where the trio were flipping through some laminated notebook and laughing. He didn't want to know.

"Somehow, yes."

The man just laughed. "Good luck, kid."

"Matthew."

The man set down the glass he was drying and held his hand out. "Ashton. This is my— HEY DONOVAN YOU STAY OUTTA MY BAR!" The there was the sound of angry muttering and the front bell rang again with the sound of someone leaving. "Sorry about that, the guy's just crazy. This is my pub."

Matthew chuckled and shook the hand. "Yeah, I guessed as much. Does the Trio come here all that often?"

Ashton suddenly looked ten years older, and very tired. "Every single weekend for as long as I can remember."

"Well. . .at least they're consistent. . .?" He struggled for something positive to say.

The bartender nodded. "That they are. So what can I get you, Matt?"

"Um. . ." The Canadian had absolutely no idea what to order, he'd never gone drinking before!

He heard Gilbert's voice in his ear."Get my friend here some shots. He's a first-time offender, after all." The albino slung an arm over his shoulders and grinned.

Ashton smirked. "Alright then. The usual?" he asked, picking out a specific bottle.

_"Ja. Lasst uns Birdie betrunken."_

The barkeep just shook his head as if to say _What is this generation coming to?_ but still poured out the alcohol in a line of shot glasses. He slid one over to the blond and said "Here ya go, kid."

Just as Matthew lifted the glass to his lips, the Prussian snatched it up and quickly tossed it down his throat. "How you—"

"**Who wants to sing next!**" The Emcee called out across the bar.

Gilbert suddenly looked off dramatically into the distance. "My time. . .has come." and ran off toward the stage, yelling vaguely over his shoulder "_Savesomeshotsanddon'thavefunwithoutmeee_!"

Matthew turned back to the bartender, who just sighed. The Canadian reluctantly picked up the shot and gazed at the alcohol patiently awaiting him to take it. The brownish liquid just sat there, looking utterly unremarkable. _'Come on, you pansy.'_ it seemed to say. _'Just drink me already. You know it'll be great to forget all about how invisible you are.'_ He sighed again. The alcohol had a good point. He tipped his head back and drank the mystery booze, instantly feeling the burning all down his throat. The interesting thing was that the burn felt. . .good. Don't get him wrong, it was crazy strong and he coughed several times, but it wasn't altogether unpleasant. He downed the following three in a fast succession and Ashton gave a low whistle.

"Damn, Matt. This is your first time drinking whiskey?"

He nodded, relishing in the fire.

"You're a natural drinker!"

Matthew toasted mid-air to the nice barkeep an gave an ambiguous nod.

"**Alright my fellow _Betrunkene_, you ready to hear some AWESOME singing?!**" The person on the mike who was undoubtedly Gilbert shouted. The crowd cheered in response. "**Yeeeeaaaaaaah! This one goes out to my friend Birdie who's come drinking for the first time!**" Matthew just smiled as the albino shot him a wink and and "seductively", "**Just for you, liebling.**"

As the song started, Matthew couldn't help but think it sounded really familiar. Gilbert bent the mike stand forward and was rocking out singing to whatever, we can just pretend that he was singing well. It wasn't until that fateful line that the blond realized just what his friend was singing fearlessly up on stage.

"**Man, I feel like a woman~!**"

Matthew couldn't stop the unreserved chuckle that escaped him. "That guy. . ."

"Yup. That guy." Ashton agreed.

He slammed the shot glass down and announced to his new friend "Mr. Bartender, get me drunk out of my mind."

Ashton just leaned forward and replied "Why should I do that? You seem like a nice kid, I wouldn't want to get you in a position you don't want to be in."

Matthew leaned in slightly with him. "I'm invisible. Can I have my drink now?"

"'Invisible'? I seriously doubt that, Matt."

With a courage he couldn't possibly possess without being buzzed, the Canadian leaped on top of the bar and screamed "HOLY CRAP THE BAR'S ON FIRE EVERYBODY OUT IMMEDIATELY!"

To Ashton's great surprise, not a single person batted an eyelash and did anything to suggest that anyone heard his yelling. Then, the shy blond jumped down and walked right over to a busty woman dressed in an outfit leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination who was flirting with some guy who looked like he could snap him in two with a single hand. Without missing a beat he leaned over and licked all up the side of her cheek but she didn't as much as blink. Matthew simply walked back over to the bar and plopped down.

Still slightly in shock, Ashton just poured him another drink.

"You're a nice guy, Ashton." The blond commented once he'd polished off the drink. "Friends give friends alcohol, right? You're a great friend."

"Of course, Matt."

"Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaay Birdie~!" Gilbert called and leaped on his friend's back. "Didja hear me singing for you?"

"I did, I did, and it was amazing." Matthew smiled.

The Prussian stared at his eyes and hesitantly said "Are you already drunk, Birdie?"

"Mmmmm, I dunno, Ashton am I drunk?"

"Very much so." he nodded.

Matthew looked back at the albino and reported "Very much so, Gil."

Gilbert just laughed. "_Kesesesese~_ you wanna sing up there?"

He looked like a kid at Chuck E. Cheese. "Can I?"

"You go for it, Birdie. What do you think you want to sing?"

Matt's eyes shined. "I know _exactly_ what I want to sing."

Getting up on the stage, a certain Canadian projected over the microphone "**Wassap peoples?!**"

Random bar-goers clapped and gave catcalls. "**Imma sing a song for you guys.**"

There was more applause and Gilbert couldn't resist shouting out "_Yeeeeeaaaaaah!_ Go, Birdie!"

Matthew smiled just as the song began.

Gilbert thought _Is he really singing Lady Marmalade?_

"**He met Marmalade down in old Moulin Rouge~**"

_Yup._

Looking around at all the patrons, a lot have taken notice of the drunk blond onstage and were rooting him on. He noticed a few giving him strange looks, and upon closer inspection it seemed like they were. . .checking him out!

Gilbert's blood boiled and he felt about ready to flip a table. On their faces. Covered in spikes.

But seriously if a single one of those drunkards so much as _looked_ at him in a way his Birdie didn't like, Gilbert would have to drop elbows and he would feel so remorse.

Before he knew it, the Canadian was next to him again with a grin and a pleasant blush across his cheeks. "Tha' was _soooo fuuuuun_! Why di'nt I do tha' before?"

Gilbert couldn't help but laugh at how drunk he was. "_Kesesesese~_ I think it's because you're pretty shy sober."

Matthew's flushed face twisted in confusion. "Well, why am I so shy?"

"I don't know, Birdie."

"Well tha's jist stupid! I want more drinks!" Matthew exclaimed, suddenly interrupting his own rant by demanding alcohol.

Gilbert, who personally had absolutely less than no restraint with alcohol, said "Alright, Ashton, _Holen Sie sich das der Mensch seine __Getränke_!"

Antonio suddenly ran up with a mischievous smile. "Gilbert. Fran found our song."

The Prussian's eyes gleamed. "You know what this means."

The brunet nodded. "Of course."

"_Los!_" Gilbert yelled and took off toward the deejay.

The two ran over to where Francis was standing with three microphones in hand, smirking evilly. They immediately got on the stage and the entire room burst into ruckus applause, chanting "_SING! SING! SING! SING! SING! SING! SING! SING!_" and one especially enthusiastic voice cheered "Yaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh Bad Touch Trio!"

Gilbert grinned and the music began. [**Bold=Gilbert**, Regular=Antonio, _Italics=Francis_, **_Bold Italics=all three_**]

Fill in the blanks without spilling your drinks  
**My name is GILBERT and I'm an alcoholic**  
**Not for real, but what else do you call this?**  
Find me in the clubby, going duper dumby, borrowing your money  
I'm in the bathroom, flask filled with iced tea (tea)  
_College grad chick straddling me (me)_  
_I think that she want me to get up in her tummy_  
_That's why they call me gutsy,_  
_And I be like "Check my Spanish"_  
Mamacita  
Te necesito  
Soy ebrio  
That's all the words I know  
I shoot tequila from Costa Rica  
**I gotta tell ya**  
_(I gotta tell ya)_  
**_Best Friends_**  
**_You are my very best friends_**  
**_Seriously, it's like the best night ever_**  
**_And this song, I'm really feeling this song_**  
**_This song, is like the BEST SONG EVER_**  
**_(everr, everrrrrr)_**  
**It's only midnight, chicks like "Heels off!"**  
**Barefooted on the floor playing leapfrog**  
Skittles, Stoli, no juice, and rolypoly produce  
That's why they call me "Whoa, dude!"  
_Slow, slow dude your roll dude_  
Mamacita  
Te necesito  
Soy ebrio  
_That's all the words I know_  
**Margaritas and microwave pizzas**  
**I gotta tell ya**  
(I gotta tell ya)  
**_Best friends, you are my very best friends_**  
**_Seriously, it's like the best night ever_**  
**_And this song, I'm really feeling this song (song)_**  
**_This song is like the BEST SONG EVER_**  
**_(everr, eve_****_rrrrrr_**)  
**_Ayyyyyyy ay ay ay ay ay_**  
**_Ayyyyyyy ay ay ay ay ay_**  
**_Ay oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh_**  
**_Ay oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh_**  
**_Ay oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh_**  
**_Ay oh oh oh oh oh oh oh_**  
_Check my Spanish_  
**_Best friends, you are my very best friends_**  
**_Seriously, it's like the best night ever_**  
**_And this song, I'm really feeling this song (song)_**  
**_This song is like the BEST SONG EVER_**  
**_Best friends, you are my very best friends_**  
**_Seriously, it's like the best night ever_**  
**_And this song, I'm really feeling this song_**  
**_This song, is like the BEST SONG EVER_**  
**_(everr, eve_****_rrrrrr_**)  
**_Ayyy ay ay ay ay ay_**  
**_Ayyy ay ay ay ay ay_**  
**_Ay oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh_**  
**_Ay oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh_**  
**_Ay oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh_**  
**_Ay oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh_**  
Check my Spanish

By the end everyone in the bar was on their feet singing along (with pronounced slurs) and clapping so loudly it felt like the whole pub was shivering. Gilbert grinned widely which showed his sharp canines, Antonio was brightly smiling, and Francis had an incomparable smirk. The trio bathed in all the applause and cheers, feeling invincible. Undoubtedly the Bad Touch Trio was _awesome_.

Just then, Francis seemed to squint, focusing on something in the crowd.

"_¿Qué tiene de malo_, Fran?" Antonio asked, having to speak quite loudly since the drunks were still cheering.

Francis's eyes widened, then narrowed dangerously. "_Ne vous l'osez!_" with that, he jumped off the stage and shoved his way through the people.

The Prussian followed closely behind. "Franny? Why are you so. . ."

But whatever he was saying died on the tip of his tongue when he saw the cause of his friend's anger. Two shady-looking guys flanked on either side of Matthew were all too obviously leering at the blond, who apparently was completely unaware of the strangers undressing him with their eyes. It seemed as though the Canadian's naivete just doubled when drunk. The brunet on his right whispered something in his ear and Matthew just laughed and playfully smacked his shoulder, making Gilbert fume. _Why couldn't he see that those two were practically molesting that unsuspecting guy through his clothes?!_

Francis started to stomp over, but his albino friend held him back. The Frenchman's head whipped over to glare at him. "What do you think you're doing? Let me go over there!"

He just shook his head. "Francis, we both know you can't fight for _Scheiße_. I'll do this."

The flamboyant blond instantly understood and agreed silently.

Gilbert looked back and just barely held himself back from painfully murdering those two with a broken bottle. One had a slimy arm wrapped around his Birdie's waist and the other guy had his over the blond's shoulders. As calmly as he could, the Prussian stepped over and said "Hey Birdie,"

Matthew looked around and the first thing Gilbert noticed was that the Canadian's face was practically glowing red and he had a stupid grin. "Ohhhh my gaawwwwsh, Gilly~ I'z juss tellin' you guysh aboot Gilly, 'n thur 'e iz~! How ya do dat, Gilly~?"

"Um," _Verdammt, he's really drunk!_ "I'm just awesome, but hey Birdie why don't we go home now?"

He pouted cutely. "Aww, but Kyle says 'e wants ta show me his fishies~! Don't that sound like fun~?"

The albino was utterly infuriated and managed to ground out "We should really get back. Alfred probably wants you home. Immediately."

"Ohh yah! Alfie needs me ta save 'im from da ghosts! I should do tha'!" He hopped down from the stool and smiled at the two creepers. "Hay ah gotta go, buh' maybe I'll see you guysh agin?"

One grinned creepily. "Of course, Mattie." Gilbert stopped himself from dragging the guy into a dark alley somewhere and slaughtering him.

"Uh-kay! Bye guyssssss~!" Matthew sang and skipped off, taking Gilbert's hand.

"Birdie, why don't you go outside to Francis's car? I need to do something really fast."

"Oh, okay~!" Matt smiled and flounced out the door.

Gilbert turned back to the perverts, dead men walking. He cracked his knuckles. "Now who's idea was it to look at Birdie?"

* * *

**Uh-oh! Crap's about to hit the fan! The songs mentioned were _Man! I Feel Like a Woman!_ (by Shania Twain), _Lady Marmalade_ (by Christina Aguilera, P!nk, Mya, and and Lil' Kim), and _Best Song Everrr_ (by Wallpaper.)**

**Translations: (German)**

**_Ich weiß nicht_ - I don't know**

**_Ja. Lasst uns Birdie betrunken_ - Yes. Let's get Birdie drunk.**

**_Betrunkene_ - drunks**

**_Holen Sie sich das der Mensch seine __Getränke_. - Get the man his drinks.**

**_Los! _- Come on!**

**(French):**

**_A-ah, __Je reçois __le vertige, Francis!_ - Ah, I'm getting dizzy, Francis!**

**_Où étiez-vous? J'ai été tellement seule!_ - Where have you been? I've been so lonely!**

**_Vous n'avez pas l'air si seul._ - You don't look so lonely.**

**_Ils ne peuvent tout simplement pas résister à l'amour~!_ - They simply cannot resist the love~!**

**___Ne vous l'osez!_ - Don't you dare!**

**(Spanish):**

**_Mamacita_ - Mama**

**_Te necesito_ - I need**

**_Soy ebrio_ - I'm drunk**

**_¿Qué tiene de malo_? - What's wrong?**

**I wanted to crank this one out especially because the last chapter was crazy SHORT and kinda suckish. Hopefully this is better.**

**First order of business: HOLY CRAP FIFTY FOLLOWERS! I am SOOO happy fifty strangers like me~! I love you. I love you. I LOOOOOOVE YOOUUU! When I got the email alerting me that I had that one more follower, I screamed. Right in the kitchen. With my sister and the little three-year-old she nannies. For the record, that girl thought my freaking out was hilarious. It was awesome.**

**If you listen to _Best Song Everrr_, it totally sounds like a BTT song~! (The one I used was the clean version.)**

**I probably won't get the next chapter out for a little bit just because it's my birthday next Tuesday (March 5) and I'm going to be partying all week.**

**Antonio: That's a lie, Ginger. You just want to sound cool, don't you?**

**_SHUT UP!_**

**Anyways, I love you, follower, soooooooooo much it's painful! (ow. . .)**

**I was thinking that I might make a 2p!Nation X Reader one-shot or maybe a fic. . . What do you think?**

**By the way, guys, if you don't start giving me feedback, I am just going to dye everyone's hair pink and write a rock opera.**

**I'll see you kids next update~**

_**Go, go, go, go insane, go insane~**_  
_**Throw some reviews, make it rain on 'em~**_  
_**Let me see them reviews~**_  
_**Let me, let me see them reviews~**_

**Until next time, mein children!**

**~Ginge**


	10. A Love of Tacos

**_Ahoj_****, children~!**

**Okay, for my birthday I got a plethora of tee shirts, one says "I WRITE FANFICTION", another has a picture of the country of Canada that says "Who?", another one that has the Prussian eagle and says "Prussia will invade your vital regions" and a few other AWESOME ones. They make me so so so so happy! Needless to say, I love my family.**

**Disclaimer: What I own are those flippin' fantastic tee shirts and that one OC Ashton, but he's cool. I rather like him.**

**Anywhozits, hope you enjoy this chapter, my dearest follower!**

* * *

The brunet stood and attempted to make himself big, but Gilbert still had a few inches on him. He sneered and nodded toward his partner in crime. "Come on Vince, we have a drunk Canadian waiting for us."

Gilbert shoved him — Kyle? — back into the bar when he tried to leave, snarling "You stay the _Hölle _away from Birdie!"

Kyle pushed the hands away and straightened himself, smirking cruelly "You're possessive of that pretty little bitch, aren't ya? I can see why though, the thing's seductive just walking."

Gilbert was incensed, his hands shaking in pure fury.

"Why don'tcha let someone else have a turn? We'd let him have fun too. Totally looks like it'd be a good fu—"

"YOU'RE DEAD, BASTARD!" Gilbert screamed as he launched his fist with all his strength.

Outside, Matthew was sitting half in the car swinging his feet hanging out the wide open door as he looked up at his cousin and friend. "Oh! I 'member this one time when Alfid an' Arthur an' me had ta stay home cuz ir parents went somewhere an' Arthur was in charge'a us cuz heez older. Bu' then Alfie wan'id ta go oot by h'm'self bu' Arfur wuz all _'Oh no, poppet! You hafta obey me b'cuz ahm Bri'ish an' I drink tea!'_" He mocked, slurring a terrible English accent."an' Alfie waslike 'Ah du' need ta stay withyou cuz ah'm indi'. . ." he paused, struggling with the word. "In. . . inde. . . indapendin'? Ya! Heslike 'Ahm indapendin!' But then _I_ hadta ax purmishin ta go oot by m'self. . ." Matthew frowned.

Francis felt kind of bad for laughing at his little cousin's drunken ramblings, but he couldn't help it was so funny! Even Antonio was laughing so hard he had to lean on the car for support.

Matthew's eyebrows suddenly furrowed his face contorted into an uncomfortable expression. "_Mathieu_?" Francis, concerned, asked "What's wrong?"

He looked up, confused. "Francy, m' head feels funny. . ."

The Frenchman smirked. "You're drunk, _mon cher_."

"'r you shir? I dun think I _feel_ drunk. . ."

Chuckling, Francis responded "_Oui_, I am sure, _petite_."

The Canadian continued swinging his feet and sat on his hands. "Hay, where s'Gil? I fot 'e said 'e was comin' right oot bu' he's not here!" He pouted.

Suddenly the sound of glass breaking prevented him from replying. Someone shouted and there was a loud _Thump!_

Francis's eyes widened and Antonio quickly said "I'll stick with Matteo, you go check on Gilly." The Frenchman nodded and took off toward the pub's entrance. He was well aware that his friend got into fights rather often, but it didn't stop him from being worried. Upon throwing the doors open frantically, he saw the albino clutching a shattered bottle of Jager over the unconscious bodies of the two men who had been creeping on his little cousin.

"Gilbo!"

Gilbert turned — revealing a bloody nose and a darkly bruising temple — and grinned. "Hey Franny! _Was ist los?_"

"_Mon Dieu_, Gilbo!" Francis ran over, checking his various wounds stained with red. He didn't miss the way his knuckles were split open and covered in an eerie mix of bruises and (whether his or his victims', he didn't know) blood. "Are you okay?"

He waved a hand nonchalantly. "I'm fine. Is Birdie alright?"

Francis smiled. "_Oui_, he is fine. But you're going to need some medical attention."

The Prussian gave him an unamused look. "I swear to _Gott_ Franny if you put on that 'sexy nurse' costume again I will—"

"_Ohonhonhon~_" Francis chortled and shot his friend an exaggerated wink. "I will make no promises, Gilly~" Gilbert took a hlaf-hearted swing at the blond, who just dodged it with a laugh. "Come on, 'Mr. Awesome'. Let's get you home, _oui?_"

Gilbert nodded and glared at the unconscious perverts, wishing he had the ability to make things spontaneously burst into flames purely with the power of his mind. Alas, the two remained intact — his efforts were quite unsuccessful. _Verdammt._

"_Ja, ja_, let's go. . ." the Prussian conceded tiredly. About to leave, Gilbert turned to the bartender "Ash, call the cops? These guys outta be arrested for attempted rape, assault, public disturbance, and breaking your stuff."

He just nodded impassively, wiping blood droplets off his bar with a damp rag. "Yup. See you guys next weekend?"

The remaining two of the Trio smirked with a nod. "You know it!"

Walking out, Francis asked seriously "Gilbo, are you really okay?"

He gave a strained smile. "My head is throbbing like nobody's business and I'm insanely dizzy, but other than that just sore."

The Frenchman sighed. "Why did you have to try to kill them?"

Gilbert's chest puffed out. "I had to protect Birdie and defend his honor! Those stupids bastards deserved it." For his efforts to not go back and beat those jerks to death, he just tripped over his own feet and his friend held him up with an arm.

"_Agresseurs!_" Francis growled.

As they got outside, the two were greeted with quite the sight. Matthew (somehow had gotten his hands on a purple felt hat that looked like a birthday cake) was perched on Antonio's shoulders and both were laughing hysterically at some unknown joke. The Spaniard danced and spun around, making drunk Matthew giggle like a toddler. Gilbert and Francis couldn't keep the smiles off their faces. It was just great to see the shy Canadian having so much fun and laughing a lot (they apparently didn't care he was in a drunken stupor). Just then he spotted his cousin and friend. "Giiiiiiiiiiillllllllllyyyyyy yyyyyy~ where you biiin~?"

Gilbert couldn't stop from chuckling. "_Kesese~_ Just taking care of some business, Birdie."

"_Le'ss get down ta bissniss~!  
To da'feet~  
Da Hunnnnns~  
(Hyuh!)_" He sang loudly and off-tune, not caring when passersby stared.

Antonio chuckled. "I'm guessing you're never been drunk before, Matteo?"

The mop of bronze-blond hair shook fervently, actually making him quite dizzy. "Oh no no no, never. I don't have any friends who would go drinking with me, so I guess that's why I wanted to get drunk in the first place." No one quite knew what to say to that, so there was a few moments of awkward silence until Matthew declared "I'm huuuungryyy!"

Francis smirked. "Shall I make you something, _cher_?"

"Can you make me tacos? I _reeeeaaaaaally_ want some tacos."

The Frenchman cried out in mock-offense and placed a hand over his heart. "You would rather have some greasy Mexican food than your _magnifique_ cousin's authentic French cuisine?"

He cocked his head slightly. "Tacos are Mexican?"

The brunet couldn't help but laugh at this. "_Fusososo~_ I can make you some tacos, _chico_."

Matthew's face lit up. "You'll really make me shum tacos?"

"_¡Por supuesto!_"

The Canadian leaned down the hugged the Spaniard around his neck. "Thaaaaaaaaaaaaaank yoooouuuu~!"

~Time Skip~

Matthew sighed happily and leaned back in the chair, full of heavenly tacos Antonio made for him as the Spaniard watched on amusedly whilst munching on a crisp tomato. Gilbert had been attended to by Francis (who knew that he could perform a task without making some kind of insinuation?) and apparently he was perfectly fine, other than a few cuts and bruises, and now had a band-aid on his forehead. Gilbert thought this made him look especially _awesome_.

"Tonio, yer my bess fren', ya know tha'?" He said as he patted his distended belly.

"Biiiiirdiiee~" Gilbert whined. "I thought I was your best friend!"

The blond looked at him with a dead serious expression. "Wen you make me food, yull be mah bess fren' Gilly."

"_Honhonhonhon~_!" Francis laughed. "He has you there, Gilbo."

"Hey! I make great wurst!" Gilbert defended.

The Canadian looked adorably confused. "'Vurst'? Wha's vurst?"

"Wurst." Francis clarified, having heard his friend's rant too many times. "It's like a German sausage."

Matthew suddenly burst into giggles, attempting in vain to cover them up with hands over his mouth.

"What? What's so funny?" Antonio asked.

"I. . .he. . .wur. . ." Matthew stuttered, unable to speak through his laughing. He whispered to Francis _"German sausage."_

When it clicked to the Frenchman why he was giggling uncontrollably, he couldn't help but laugh along with him. "_Ohonhonhonhonhon~!_ You have such a dirty mind, _cher_!"

Gilbert was utterly baffled. "_Was_? Why are you laughing? What's so funny about wurst?"

Matthew and Francis just cracked up harder, the blonds laughing so much there wasn't even any sound coming out.

"G-Gil. . ." Matthew snickered, holding his sides as they started aching.

Francis leaned over and whispered something in his Prussian friend's ear, who immediately flushed pink. "Franny! You broke Birdie!"

The Frenchman shook his head, still chuckling. "_Non, Mathieu_ thought of that all on his own!"

"There's no way! Birdie is too innocent for that!"

Matthew then proceeded to prove him wrong by telling the absolute dirtiest joke he knew and sat back to see the results of his efforts.

Antonio's head was cocked as he clearly didn't understand what he was talking about, Gilbert was flushed and burning from the tips of his ears down to his arms, and Francis was laughing hysterically.

"_Cher vous êtes __hilarant_!" he wheezed, his stomach hurting. His cousin apparently _wasn't_ that "innocent"!

Gilbert groaned weakly and rubbed at his eyelids. "Ugh. . . I need a brain-bleach. . ."

"_¿Qué?_" Antonio queried.

Francis looked over to the Canadian, who was now passed out on top of the kitchen table. "_Aww, vierge potable pauvre~!_" he crooned.

"We should get him home, _¿__sí?_"

"Won't Captain America go _Titus Andronicus_ on me if he sees Birdie dead drunk?"

Francis glanced at his friend. "Wait, wait, Gilbo you're _not_ uncultured swine?"

Gilbert grinned toothily. "Eighth grade summer reading, _whaaaaaaa'?_" He called, proud of his prowess.

"d. . . dun. . . " Someone mumbled, and the Trio looked to where the (still half alive) Canadian was whispering into the table. "worry. . . bout. . . m. . . me. . ." Then continued in his adventures into dreamland.

The albino couldn't help but laugh at the endearing sight. "_Kesesese~_ even when drunk out of his mind Birdie's concerned for others!"

"_Bon_, I shall take _Mathieu_ to my place." He smirked.

The Prussian leaped over the table to clutch Birdie to his chest protectively. "_Nein_! I don't want you to rape him, you crazy _Nymphomanin_!"

Matthew stirred in his sleep slightly, humming into his friend's shirt.

Gilbert smiled at the sight and conceded, "I'll drive him home, guys."

"You sure, Gilbo? Alfred is pretty _protecteur _when it comes to _Mathieu_."

He nodded. "_Ja_, let's just go before I realize what a bad idea this is. Help me out to _mein Auto_?" He asked, lifting the Canadian into his arms.

After getting the passed out blond into the truck, Gilbert drove them home with the driving skills of a normal human being.

"Gil. . .bert?" Matthew muttered quietly at a stoplight.

"_Ja_, Birdie?"

"Thanks for hanging out with me, Gill. You're a great friend." he beamed sleepily.

Gilbert couldn't help but smile. "It's no problem whatsoever, Birdie. Just go back to sleep."

"_Mmm-hmm. . ._" he mumbled, snuggling down into the seating.

Eventually Gilbert drove up to the Canadian-American household with a sigh.

_Everyone has to die sometime. . ._

* * *

**Translations (German):**

**_Hölle _ — Hell**

**_Was ist los?_ — What's up?**

**_Gott_ — God**

**_Nymphomanin_ — Nymphomaniac**

**_mein Auto_ — my car**

**Translation (French):**

**_Mon Dieu_ — My God**

**_Agresseurs_ — agressors / bullies**

**_magnifique_ — magnificent**

**_Cher vous êtes __hilarant!_ — Dear you are hilarious!**

**_Aww, vierge potable pauvre~!_ — Aww, poor drinking virgin~!**

**_Bon_ — Alright**

**_protecteur _ — protective**

**Translations (Spanish):**

**_chico_ — kid**

**_¡Por supuesto!_ — Of course!**

**_¿Qué?_ — What?**

**_¿__sí?_ — yes?**

**Hey kids~! Did you miss me? ^_^***

**I had a great moment in my U.S. History class when we were talking about the Cold War and the Cuban Missile Crisis. So I have a bad habit of coughing when there is an excellent "That's What She Said" moment or if I think of something dirty. . . Anyways, my teacher was like "Now that Cuba has this close relationship with Russia. . ." and I was just like _*coughcoughcoucghcoughcoughco ughcoughcough*_ and trying not to laugh.**

**See you crazy kids next time!**

**_Hey I just met you~_**  
**_And this is crazy~_**  
**_But here's my fanifc~_**  
**_So review maybe~!_**

**Until next time, _mein_ children!**

**~Ginge**


	11. A Mighty Quest I

**'allo, mein children~!**

**All I can say is _enjoy_~**

* * *

"Giiiiiiillllllllbeeeeeerrrrr rttttt~" Someone whispered.

Unhappy with being woken up, the Prussian just grunted in response. "Nnnnnooo. . . ."

"Gilbert~ wake u~p~"

"_Nein_. . ." he groaned.

"Wake up or I'm flushing all the beer down the toilet."

"_NEIN_!" Gilbert shrieked and shot up in place, immediately searching out the one who threatened his joy in the world. He spotted someone at the foot of the bed, but when he concentrated to focus on who it was it thoroughly shocked him. At his bedside was someone who looked like an older version of his bruder's boytoy Feliciano, except he was wearing a neon pink toga and a sparkly starred magician hat. Little palm-sized rabbits hopped all around the man, who was beaming brightly with the Vargas (trademark) closed-eyed smile.

"_Buona sera_ Gilly~!" He cheered happily.

"Who are you?" Gilbert remarked with surprising coherence considering he had just woken up.

"_Il mio nome è Roma_," He introduced himself cheerfully, rabbits falling from his shoulders and cloak. Vaguely the albino recognized that his pointy hat was glimmering with sparkles. "You have a mighty quest to undertake."

Gilbert stood up atop his bed with a serious look. "What is this quest?"

"You, Gilbert Harry Potter Hidekaz Sparkle Samwise Atzen Tobuscus Sherlock Zefron Aang Pirate Beilschmidt, must go on an epic journey across time and a lot of Europe in order to complete a task only you can."

"What must I do, Roma?"

"There are three major things that you shall do in order to carry out the crusade. First, you must go to an ordinary office building where all the nations of the world collect in a conference, and steal a certain animal from one of countries assembled — this will be difficult as this pet is especially evil.

"Secondly, you need to climb up the peaks of _Cioccolato al Latte_, which is a month-long trek up snowy slopes made of fire, where upon reaching the top is a cave. Within that cave are the stalagmites of pancake-dom, where you and only you can recognize which delectable sugary treat is the _real_ pancake. When you figure out which is the real stack of pancakes, your third task comes in.

"After you have the magical creature and the legitimate pancakes, you must travel to the set of Tony Stark's home from the first Iron Man movie where the boss fight ensues. If – _if_ – you succeed, then come back to me and I will return you home."

Gilbert saluted him. "You can count on me, Roma!"

Roma saluted him back with a grin. "I know I can, Gilbert. Now get out there!"

The albino, now suddenly wearing a legitimate Prussian military general uniform, ran out the door and right onto a motorcycle.

_If I were an ordinary-looking business office,_ Gilbert thought, _where would I be?_ Just then he was overcome with the desire to go to a PetSmart. _I never was one to ignore a random prompting. Let's go._ Gilbert turned off-road down a street he'd never been before but thought _Hey. Why not?_ Going further down the street he came upon a dirt lot with a single PetSmart in the very middle of it. He sped up, the building growing steadily nearer, until he reached the store and burst right through the brick wall — Kool-aid Man style.

"AWESOME~!" he yelled in an epic battle cry.

The PetSmart, seemingly twenty times larger than how it seemed on the outside, was filled with people walking to and fro the shop and it looked as if not a single person even saw the awesome entrance. Gilbert just casually walked over to where he heard melodious singing above the hubbub of people.

As he reached the source of the music, he gasped and fell to his knees.

"W-what? How could anyone be this cruel. . .?" Within a wall of cages were many colorful little parakeets just like his own awesome bird friend. They all seemed to look at the Prussian and say _'Help us, Gilbert-won Kenobi! You're our only hope!'_ but one yellow bird just sat in the corner. After a minute, Gilbert gaped in recognition. "_Gilbird_! How did you get in here?"

Gilbird looked at him with a sad, fuzzy little expression. "They captured me when I was just trying to clean my feathers. I was in a tree, being awesome," Gilbert nodded his head, following his pet. "when this _Trottel_ came along and caught me in a net. Then he dumped me in here with my aerial brethren. I've been planned a coup to fly the coop ever since."

"Don't you worry awesome little guys." Gilbert assured, staring at his _kleine Vogel_. "I'll get all of you out of here. Now where's the _dummkopf_ who captured you?"

"He's over there." Gilbird pointed with his tiny wing at someone behind the cash registers.

Looking over, Gilbert saw the last person he'd expected to see on his legendary adventure, though it made perfect sense.

"Roderich." he snarled, standing up straight. His (distant, very distant) cousin was dressed in red robes and two large, black horns stuck out from under his disgusting mop of greasy black hair. In his hand was an enormous dark pitchfork, he could see tiny little feathers in various parts on the prongs. Gilbert growled in rage. "RODERICH!" he screamed, and the reaction was instantaneous.

Roderich's head snapped over to glare at who called him, and frowned at seeing the albino. "Gilbert Beilschmidt. What do you want?" he sneered condescendingly.

"My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt," he began dramatically, glowering at the Austrian.

"What?" Roderich interrogated.

"You kidnapped _mein_ awesome Gilbird," he continued.

"So what?"

"Prepare to _die_." Gilbert slowly pulled out the awesome sword of a Teutonic knight, leveling it at the bird-snatcher's face.

Roderich pointed the end of his pitchfork at him in return, and scoffed at the Prussian. "You are no match for my evil powers! I'll kill you, Gilbert Beilschmidt! And your little bird, too!" He leaped in the air and swung his pitchfork around in an attempt to gain the momentum to stab at the albino. Gilbert just jabbed the sword forward just as the Austrian fell down and when the sword pierced his chest his entire body exploded.

Gilbert groaned lightly and rubbed the edge of his sword on a nearby doggie sweater. "Gross. I got 'pretentious aristocrat' all over my _mein_ awesome _Klinge_." He then walked over to the bird cages and swung the blade in a mighty arc to successfully slice to offending lock in half.

All the birds flew out and surrounded their savior chirping "Yay! Gilbert! You saved us! You saved us!" and Gilbird flew out, attacking his owner's hair.

"Gilbert!" he cried in joy. "You did it, you awesome son of a —"

"Language, Gilbird." Gilbert said jovially. "There may be preteen followers reading this. We don't need to add to all the cursing on this website."

Gilbird cocked his fuzzy head. "What chu talkin' 'bout, Gilbert?"

"I. . ." Gilbert seemed nonplussed. "I don't know what came over me. . ." He spotted the place where Roderich fell and where his body would be was a small pile of change. He stepped over and crouched down. "Oh, cool! Coins!"

"What do we do now, Lord of Awesome?" A little blue parakeet at Gilbird's left remarked.

"Well, my awesome little buddy," Gilbert grinned. "I need to go to an ordinary-looking office, where Roma said the 'nations of the world meet', whatever that means."

Another fatter green bird said "Psshhh, don't worry 'bout it! We know exactly what that is! We totally know where it's at, too!"

"Whoa, really?" Gilbert laughed. What convenience! Gilbert _loooved_ convenience! Doing things is lame.

"We sure do! Hop on!"

"Hop on what?" the Prussian asked, and turning around he saw all of the parakeets carrying a glorious throne which was now hovering a foot above the ground. "Oh wow, awesome! You positive you can hoist my awesomeness?"

"We can do it! Come on, Gilbert!"

"Well. . . okay!" Gilbert beamed and jumped onto the throne. "Onwards, awesome birds!" and the birds did.

The birds launched the velvet-seated golden chair sped forward and their tiny wings beat like hummingbirds'.

"Pretty awesome, eh Gilbert?" Gilbird commented.

"SO awesome!" The albino shouted. "It's like a whole new world!"

Soon enough, a normal-looking office building came into view and the birds placed Gilbert and his pet at the entryway. "Good luck, Gilbert! Good luck, Gilbird!"

Gilbert waved as they left, and Gilbird waved his feathery wing.

Once they were gone, Gilbert looked at Gilbird and declared "Gilbird let's go!" Gilbird nodded and the two took off inside the building.

They came upon the front desk and Gilbert slammed down both hands loudly. "Listen, lady! I need to get up in that— Ash is that you?"

Sure enough, His friend was dressed in a sleeveless — which showed his impressive muscles — light pink dress, a little pink hat perched on his dark hair, and too much makeup. Ash looked up with a little smirk.

"Hey Gilbert. You need to get yourself to the top floor, asap."

Gilbert was about to ask why his friend was in drag and apparently either didn't care or didn't notice. It could have been either one. Instead he just replied "Hey, thanks guy!"

As the Prussian raced toward the elevator he heard the call "Call me ya 'Momma'!"

Gilbert stepped in and clicked the button for the twentieth floor, flopping around his white hair. Gilbird flew around in front of him, saying "Okay, what do we need to do?"

"Apparently I need to take someone's pet, which is supposedly pretty evil."

"Alright, not _too_ awfully obscure."

"We can totally do this." Gilbert said proudly.

The elevator doors opened, and a long hallway with a set of double-doors at the very end. He ran down the corridor and burst in the room, where he saw multiple people dressed in different suits or uniforms. He actually recognized several of the people, even though they looked significantly older and seemed to be wearing outfits very different than their normal garb. He looked around and saw many pets with their respective owners. The older Yao had a panda inside of his rucksack, but it couldn't be the panda because the thing never left Yao's side— who would know if it's evil? Heracles (who was currently asleep) was covered in sleeping kittens, but the itty bity tiny little baby cats were far from malicious. The ever-apathetic Emil was stroking his pet puffin's (creatively named Puffin) feathers, but that bird just stuck to his master. Lars, he who always had his pipe on hand, was feeding that little rabbit he never let anyone touch. Arthur was talking to his. . . er . . . . "magical friends". He didn't see anyone he really had an "evil" pet, though. . . So who—?

"Crikey, mate! Ya don't have to be like that!" A distinctly Australian accent exclaimed, and Gilbert turned about to see a guy with wild brown hair and a band-aid across his nose who was talking to someone (the "one" meaning their gender was indeterminable) with light, curly hair. "Alls I did was ask ya to watch my little buddy here!"

Gilbert then saw a little brown bear in his arms. . . No, wait. . . A koala! That's it! But _holy crap_ that thing had quite the glare! Were its eyes red? And not ruby like his awesome ones, but more like they were glowing red like it was possessed or something. As if it could read his thoughts, the bear's head snapped over to stare at him with an icy stare that could easily liquify his kidneys.

The Prussian shivered. _No wonder Roma warned me about the creepy little thing!_ He hesitantly stepped over — its ferocious lower made him rethink this whole "quest" — and commented "I couldn't help but overhear that you need a koala-sitter!"

The Aussie turned about with a bright smile. "You'd look afta my little fella here?"

Gilbert waved a hand nonchalantly, sweating slightly under the animal's murderous look. "Of course!"

He lifted the koala higher into his arms, still smiling happily. "Just be careful, he's a vicious li'l thing! He wrestled mah croc to the ground, he did!" The brunet was, apparently, oblivious to the albino's inner flip-out.

"No big deal for someone as awesome as me!" _Oh Gott! Oh Gott! It's going to murder me with a spork and throw my body in the ocean!_

"Well alrighty then!" He cheerfully agreed, handing the tiny, fuzzy ball of hate over to the albino.

Wincing minutely as the koala was plotting his painful demise, Gilbert took a random chance and scratched him lightly behind his left ear. Instantly, the Australian creature melted in his arms and cuddled up to his chest. As the Prussian gaped in confusion, the Aussie had a pleasantly baffled expression on his face. "Whoa! How'd ya do that, kid?"

Gilbert smirked. "I'm just awesome!" He looked at the brunet. "I'll see ya later!"

He smiled joyfully. "See ya!"

As Gilbert walked away, koala in hand, he thought _This is just too easy. . ._

_To Be Continued. . . ._

* * *

**Is everyone thinking _What the maple just happened?_**

**Yeah, well, I've just been dying to do something like that. April Fool's~! (In case you don't know, April Fool's is just a holiday to play pranks on people.)**

**If you like it, I may insert a second and third part later.**

**Translations (Italian):**

**_Buona sera_ — Good evening**

**_Il mio nome è Roma_ — My name is Roma**

**_Cioccolato al Latte_ — Chocolate milk**

**Translations: (German)**

**_Trottel_ — Jerk**

**_kleine Vogel_ — little bird**

**_dummkopf_ —idiot**

**_mein Klinge_ — my sword**

**If you count, there are several book/movie/etc. references this chapter. Anyone who can list all of them gets an awesome~ hug from Prussia!**

**Also, Gilbert has a point. Doing things is very, very lame.**

**Hey, fun fact: I was originally going to write a RusCan fic (whilst I was going through my RusCan phase) and Gilbert was the bad guy. . . But I love him too much to make him the antogonist of anything. Except he hurts his own cause a lot, but we're overlooking that!**

**_So baby turn it up~_**  
**_Cause the speakers gotta boom~_**  
**_And yeah, I like it rough~_**  
**_Til' the walls are coming through~_**  
**_I like reviews~_**  
**_I like reviews~_**  
**_I like reviews~_**  
**_I like reviews~_**

**'till next time, children!**

**~Ginge**


	12. A Not-so-awesome Hangover

**Privyet, children!**

**It thrills me that my last chapter got so many reviews~ So. . . my children respond best to when I confuse/make them mad? This is good news indeed. }:D *rubs hands together, cackling***

**If you were wondering, I will indeed be finishing that and only after the third and final part shall I explain what the maple is going on. There are three parts in total, and _who knows_ when I'll randomly insert them into DWI! -I say, grinning like a crazy person.-**

**Also, the one who wins the awesome hug is **Jayvee1669**! *YAY***

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Reviews make every hour slaved over a scorching hot, broken laptop worth it!**

**Have I mentioned that I love my children? Because I LOVE my children!**

**I wrote this one for you, child~**

**Enjoy~!**

* * *

Matthew awoke to the feeling of a buzz-saw splitting through his skull. He slowly opened his eyes just to have some brilliantly bright laser-like light burning straight through his eyes to the back of his head. The Canadian lowly groaned, feeling like death, and ducked under his polar bear comforter to shield him from the evil light of evil day — _it was super effective!_

He shuffled under the duvet to try getting comfortable again, when his brain's (very) delayed reaction recognized the body in his bed beside him. Matthew slowly turned his head to the right, where he saw an unconscious Gilbert lying atop the covers of his bed. He sighed, thankful it wasn't Alfred — that boy slept about as quietly as a wood chipper.

_Wait,_ he thought, confused._ I don't remember Gil sleeping over yesterday! What did we even do last night?_

It was then that the blond teen noticed a certain albino's shirt was missing and. . . was he. . . ? Yes. Gilbert was wearing a pair of the Canadian's pajama pants.

Matthew's mind automatically drifted into Francis-like places and he blushed profusely. Without warning, Matthew reacted the same way he would when his cousin would try groping him — he shoved the Prussian away where he landed face-first onto the floor with a _thump_.

"Augh. . ." he moaned from the floor, waking up from his up-close-and-personal encounter with his unwitting wake up alarm — the ground. "Wha'd ya do that for, Birdie?"

"OhmygoshGilI'msosorry!" Matthew squeaked once he realized what he did. The Canadian leaped down and lifted his friend onto the bed. "I, uh, _ugh_," he groaned, his head feeling like a tiny man with a jack hammer within his head was pounding all around the inside of his skull. "what happened last night? Did we get _brain surgery_?"

Gilbert laughed, sending spikes of pain through his temples at the sharp, loud sound. He flopped back onto the bed and curled in on himself. "Sorry Birdie, forgot to warn you about the hangover, _Kesesese~_!"

Matthew yelled unintelligibly into his pillow, wrapping himself within the folds of the bed in an attempt to become one with the mattress.

"Come on kid." the Prussian said amusedly, standing up with his hands on his hips to look down on the pitifully bemoaning blond. _Is this how Ludwig feels on Saturdays?_ he thought, pulling on the blanket.

The Canadian whimpered in protest, hugging the duvet to his chest. "_Nnnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooo. . ._" he whined pathetically.

"Alright, you want to do this the hard way?" He lifted his small friend — blanket and all — into his arms in order to carry him into the kitchen. Vaguely he heard the blond mumbling into his shoulder, too out of it to actually fight back.

Once he set him down at the kitchen table, he text the expert of hangover remedies.

**hay franny**  
**com 2 birdies asap**  
**he needz ur magic hngvr solushun**  
**i think hes dyin**  
**XP**  
**- AWSUM**

The response came soon.

_Ah, poor Mathieu~! __Et vous, Gilbo?_  
_~l'amour~_

**plz.**  
**i can handl THIS no prob but birdie sounds lik a kikd pupy**  
**its rly sad soundin**  
**i feel bad :(**  
**who let him drink?**  
**- AWSUM**

_Um. . . that would be you._  
_Mais peu importe! I shall come rapide!_  
_Is he really so pitoyable sounding?_  
_~l'amour~_

**JA.**  
**cya soon**  
**- AWSUM**

Gilbert looked over to see Birdie smooshing his face into the cool glass dinner table with the blanket covering his head like a shield, moaning miserably like a ghost being slowly tortured. The Prussian winced, knowing well that his innocent little friend's source of suffering was no less than him. Well. . . he _could_ always blame Ash. After all, he was the one to sell alcohol to minors.

"_Giiiiiillllll_," a nearly silent voice murmured.

The albino sat down beside the Canadian, rubbing his back soothingly. "_Ja_, Birdie?"

"M'head huuurrrrrrts. . ." he pathetically groaned, rubbing the cold surface on his forehead.

"_Es tut mir leid_, Birdie. Now we know not to let you drink so much, though, next time."

His head shook slowly — though to the blond it felt like he was on that stupid teacups ride with Alfred at the wheel — and he whined "No way. Not gonna happen, Gil.  
"Not.  
"Ever.  
"Again."

Gilbert couldn't hold back the chuckle, attempting to stifle it with the sleeve of the shirt. "_Kesese~_ we'll see, Birdie. You were having a lot of fun last night." He was suddenly reminded of those two _Ärsche _from the night previous. "Actually, maybe you shouldn't drink anymore."

Matthew moaned into the table. "What made you think it was a good idea to get lobotomies, Gil?"

The albino laughed slightly but still trying to be as comforting as he could even though he had absolutely no idea how to do that so he settled with rubbing his small friend's blanket-clad back gently. "So how's your first hangover, Birdie?"

The Canadian whined noncommittally. "I hate everything that has ever existed. . . If you make any jokes with the word 'awesome' in them I will smack. Hard."

Gilbert just laughed. "Sorry, kid. That's kind of my gig."

Without warning the sound of the front door slamming against the wall rang through the house and a sing-songy voice called "_L'amour de Dieu __est là_!"

It felt like a rifle had been fired three inches away from Matthew's ear and the sound vibrated all throughout his brain like it was made of metal, the shout vibrating in his skull. He moaned miserably, his voice cracking. The blond groaned unintelligibly "Why do these things happen to me? I'm a good person! I obey the law, I never run with scissors, I do my homework, I don't deserve having my skull cracked in half. . ."

"_Mon pauvre cousin, je suis ici pour vous sauver du grand méchant gueule de bois_!"

Matthew made a sob-like-sound and mumbled to his friend "So if you could just strangle me right now, that would be great."

As the Frenchman rounded the corner into view, Gilbert hissed "_Franny! What's your problem?! Birdie's got a hangover! Screaming isn't really helping anybody!_"

"I can still hear you. . ."

The Prussian winced. "Sorry Birdie."

"Naw, s'fine, I think I can _hear_ Francis's outfit right now anyways."

Looking over, Gilbert recognized that his blond friend was, indeed, wearing unbelievably bright blue and red clothes that could have made a blind man projectile vomit. He snickered at the visual.

Francis frowned and gently padded over to his petite cousin, lightly smoothing down a patch of disheveled hair that stuck out between folds of blanket. "_Comment tenez-vous, ma douce_?" he crooned tenderly, showing his motherly side.

"_Je me sens comme quelqu'un a une pince électrique poussé dans __mon cerveau_." Matthew croaked, his head throbbing.

Gilbert half-expected the Frenchman to make some sex joke, but instead he whispered (almost too quiet to be heard) "_Dois-je vous faire des crêpes_?"

A tiny nod of the head. "_Oui, je vous remercie beaucoup_."

Francis smiled fondly at the boy. _Why are you just so adorable, Mathieu?_ "_Ce n'est pas un problème, cher __cousin_." He affectionately pressed a small, chaste kiss to his little cousin's temple and headed to the kitchen to make the crepes as his friend attempted to converse with the mass of blanket.

"Birdie, it was your first time drinking, why would you drink yourself unconscious?" Gilbert recalled what the Canadian had told the trio last night, but wished the answer was different.

"Ugh. . ." Matthew tried to remember his reasoning for having supposedly chugged about a full water tower of alcohol. This just made his head hurt worse. "I guess I'm kinda stressed. . . our cousin is coming, and Al and he hate each other so I always have to break up their fights. He's staying for a few chap— _ahem_, a few days and it just gets really stupid after a while, you know? It's like I'm the only adult in the house and I have to do everything. It just— _ugh_." He wrapped the duvet around himself tighter, furthering his transformation into a blanket.

"Sit up, _cher_." Francis brought over a plate of chocolate crêpes and set them in front of where he guessed Mathieu's head was.

Gilbert watched as, somehow, Birdie took the fork and slowly ate a bit, all without exposing his skin or any part of himself to the outside even once. It seemed as though the bite-sized pieces were simply disappearing into a black hole of blankets. _How does he do that!?_ he wondered.

Francis then brought over a glass of mystery liquid of indeterminable color — the cure to all hangovers — and a couple ibuprofen for his head. Birdie swallowed the pills and two blanket-clad hands took the cup.

"Just try not to think about the taste." The Prussian warned, knowing full well how nasty it tasted.

But he just gulped it all down without a word of complaint and set the glass back onto the table.

"How. . . ?" the albino grasped for words and Francis was the same, just more articulate.

"How did you do that, Mathieu?"

The mass turned slightly toward the teens. "I've had to eat Arthur's cooking for weeks at a time. I can handle _anything_."

They both gasped and Francis leaped forward to embrace the bundle. "_Oh mon pauvre bébé abusé_!"

Gilbert, suddenly reminded of his friend's food after glancing at the half-eaten snacks, asked "Hey Franny, are there any crepes left?"

Francis winced at the Prussian's harsh pronunciation of his delicate language. "_Non_, but there is still batter left." He pointed with his thumb in the vague direction of the kitchen.

The Frenchman could practically see Gilbert's "ears" perk up and he jumped out of his chair. "Ooh~! Can ya make me some? Huh? Can ya? Can ya? Can ya? Can ya? Can ya? Can ya? Can ya? Can ya? Can ya? Can ya? Can ya? _Huuuuuuuuuh?_" All Francis saw was a hyper little albino puppy dancing around his ankles, begging for scraps. He smirked.

"_Oui_, but you'll need to buy some more strawberries."

"I can do that! AlrightI'llgorightnow!" in a snap he ran to the front door, the called back, softer this time, "I'll be right back Birdie, don't worry!" then the sound of a door closing.

Francis conspiratorially whispered to the smaller teen "He's finally gone!"

Matthew quietly chuckled, but his cousin still caught it.

"Shall we move to the living room?"

"Sure." He nodded.

He helped the unsteady Canadian onto his reclining sofa and sat down beside him. Had Matthew not been wearing a thick blanket as a second skin he would have seen the unsettling look in his eye, that infamous "rape face" that everyone in a three-city-radius knew to fear, that could have warned the poor unfortunate teen. "Sooooooo. . ." he began in a seductive, velvety voice. "How far have you gotten with Gilbo?"

"E-excuse me?" Matthew had an idea of where this was going, and he didn't like it.

"_Ohonhon~_ You know what I mean, Mathieu! Have you yet consummated your undying love~?"

Matthew's face exploded in a vicious blush — that Francis could practically see _through_ the blanket — and he furiously stuttered, choking on air, "I-I-I— w-wh— th— i-it— wh-why—? N-no! _No!_ I—"

Francis couldn't take it anymore. He burst out laughing, tears coming to his eyes. Matthew still retained a fierce flush. After a solid minute of laughter, he finally got out "A-ah, _désolé_, Mathieu. I just couldn't resist~!"

"Darn it Francis, why do you feel the need to tease me like this?" The Canadian muttered into the material.

Francis slung an arm around the blanket mass with a kind smile. "It's because I love you, Mathieu."

". . .familially?" the Canadian hesitantly asked.

Francis laughed. "_Oui_, Mathieu. Familially."

"_Merci_, Francis." He quietly said.

Suddenly, a shrill chirping sound reverberated throughout the house and the quiet blond made a pathetic groan of pain. The Frenchman quickly tore his phone from the designer jeans and clicked the green button to answer. "_Qu'est-ce que c'est_!" he asked frustratedly.

"_Ähm_, hey, Franny," a breathless-sounding voice gasped. "so, er, _was ist los_?"

"Gilbo?" Francis brow wrinkled. "Are you okay?"

"_Ja_— well, I might have done something ba—"

_"Get back here and fight me like a man, damn albino!"_

Francis frowned. "Gilbo. . ."

"_Ja_, _ja_, I know, just come down here and help me!"

"Why didn't you call Toni?"

Gilbert awkwardly chuckled. "Well. . . this guy I pissed off _maaaaaay_ look like a Luddy on steroids. . ."

On the other end, Francis paled. "Gilbo, I'm calling Toni. Try not to get yourself killed, _vous factice_."

"_Kesese~_ I'll try, Franny. OH NO WAIT GOTT NO GEH WEG—!" The call suddenly cut off.

"Uh, Francis. . . ?" Matthew stuttered nervously, having heard the whole conversation.

But Francis was already calling his the Spaniard. He quickly explained the situation, and Antonio immediately agreed to help their mutual friend.

"_C'est idiot_. . ."

* * *

**Translations: (French)**

**_Et vous? -_And you?**

**_Mais peu importe! _- But it is not important!**

**_ rapide -_ quickly**

**_pitoyable - _pitiable**

**_L'amour de Dieu __est_ _là_! - The god of love is here!**

**_Mon pauvre cousin, je suis ici pour vous sauver du grand méchant gueule de bois!_ - My poor cousin, I am here to rescue you from the big, bad hangover!**

**_Comment tenez-vous, ma douce__?_ - How are you holding up, my sweet?**

**_Je me sens comme quelqu'un a une pince électrique poussé dans __mon cerveau._ - I feel like someone has an electric crowbar shoved into my brain.**

**_Dois-je vous faire des crêpes__?_ - Shall I make you some crepes?**

**_Oui, je vous remercie beaucoup__._ - Yes, thank you so much.**

**_Ce n'est pas un problème, cher __cousin._ - It is no problem, dearest cousin.**

**_Oh mon pauvre bébé abusé__!_ - Oh my poor, abused baby!**

**_désolé_ - sorry**

**_Qu'est-ce que c'est__!_ - What is it!**

**_vous factice_ - you dummy**

**_C'est __idiot ..._ - That idiot ...**

**Translation (German):**

**_Ähm_ - Um**

**_GEH WEG!_ - GET AWAY!**

**Ehehehe. . . I don't think I've ever taken a month to write a chapter. It's some kind of record? (AH I SUCK)**

**IN MY DEFENSE I'm taking my finals all this week and next week, I've been stressing about then end of the year. . . This is time of the year is just sighs all around.**

**Since summer will be here (well, it's ALWAYS summer in California...) I will be doing a heck of a lot of reading, doing family things with MAH FAMILY, and... _wait for it_ ... WRITING~! I want to do a bunch of one-shots and maybe start another series...? I'm not gonna lie, I want to write some PruCan so much IT HURTS. I WANT TO WRITE IT _HARD_.**

**Yay break~! This means that I'll get another chapter of superior quality to this one out a lot sooner. Huzzah.**

**Welp, let's hope this will satisfy you.**

**_REVIEW (oh)_  
_THIS (oh)__FIC (oh)_  
_(ha-ha-ha)_  
["Curse" - Imagine Dragons]  
**

**'Till next time~**

**~Ginge**


	13. GRAPE JELLY?

**_Alo_****, children~!**

**HAPPY LATE CANADA DAY! I LOVE YOU, MATTIE!**

**Wait, what was that? It's been_ two _****_months_**** since I last updated? Well, I….**

**Okay, I have no good excuse. It's just that my (hand-me-down) laptop is severely broken so I would completely brain fart and forget to write. Also, I've been watching a lot of Young Justice. ****_Es tut mir leid!_**

**So, er, here ya go?**

**ALSO, I have a short little PruCan maybe-oneshot-maybe-another-series-depending-on-wh at-you-think I'd like to post, so it may come just a little bit after this gets updated.**

**Here, child! *bows deeply, presenting this chapter on a silver platter***

**Enjoy~**

* * *

~Gilbert P.O.V.~

Gilbert was humming nervously as he crept along the aisle, searching for a suitable object to use for blunt-force trauma. _Aah, come on! I need a bat, a hammer, a two-by-four. . . something!_ The Prussian vaguely heard the angry bald man yelling obscenities at "that albino". Gilbert had _just_ escaped _des Mannes_ grasp and ran away to hide until his Spanish reinforcement arrived. Despite how some may think that Gilbert was being a pansy by calling for help. . . but let's be real, though Gilbert was rather oblivious, he was no nobody's fool and he wasn't about to charge in headfirst. Hey, "only fools rush in", right? The _awesome_ him was an _awesome_ (self-proclaimed) Teutonic knight and he could handle anything!

Suddenly, a hand clapped heavily on the albino's shoulder and he squeaked. "_Nein! Ich bin zu jung und genial zu sterben!_"

The grip on his shoulder shook the Prussian a bit and a familiar voice called "Gilly, Gilly! _¡Calma!_"

Gilbert shakily placed a hand over his rapidly thumping heart and chuckled nervously. "_Meine Güte_, 'Tonio! Give me heart attack, who dont'cha?" Then he leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially "_Did you bring your halberd?_"

The brunet smirked, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "A-ah. . . _Lo siento, amigo_. . . I did not know I was supposed to bring it along with me!"

_What? Auurgh!_ Gilbert thought, throwing his pale arms up into the air in frustration, momentarily forgetting he was supposed to be in hiding. "_Was!?_" He hissed. "If we don't have anything to fight the friggin' giant with, how are we supposed t—"

The boxes at the end of the aisle that had been shielding them from view were suddenly thrown away and a furious voice screamed "THERE YOU BRATS ARE!"

Antonio and Gilbert shrieked, holding onto each other for dear life.

~Moving right along back to Matthew's house!~

Francis soothingly rubbed the Canuck's back, the duvet now hanging loosely around his shoulders. "_Vous sentez-vous mieux, ma chère__?_"

Matthew smiled, visibly looking less weak and out of it. "_Oui_, Francis. Thank you so much for taking care of me, but you know that you really don't ha—"

The Frenchman immediately placed a finger on his little cousin's lips. "Shush, Matthieu. I love coddling you like you deserve and I do want to spend time with you. _Je t'adore, __mon chéri_."

The Canadian flushed under the undivided attention he was given. "_Je vous remercie, mon cousin. Je t'aime aussi_." he said happily, eyes filled with grateful tears. Francis was instantly glad he had agreed to come over to help his adorable petite _relatif_.

Suddenly, _J__e Danse Le Mia_ started blasting from the flamboyant blond's cell phone. He kept his left hand sweetly stroking Matthew's back and he pressed the speaker button. "_Bonjour_." his velvet-like French purred into the phone. "_Qui __est-il?_"

A far-off-sounding Gilbert was nervously talking, but not into the phone. _"Hey, hey, let's talk. We can talk this out. I bet that you are a smart guy, willing to negotiate, _ja_?"_

_"Don't you dare speak, you _**[maple]**_ albino. You have five seconds before your and your friend's faces."_ A gravely, furious voice growled.

_"Heh... Ah, _disculpe_, _pero_ you do not have to do this! I am sure that there i—"_

_"SHUT UP!"_

_"AHHHH!"_

***click***

After the call was cut off (again), Matthew immediately said in an exhausted voice "Francis, go help them, _s'il vous plaît_." he sighed tiredly.

"A-ah, _oui_. . ." The Frenchman murmured, slightly upset by the concerning call. "But Matthieu. . .?" His light eyebrows furrowed. "Will you be alright by yourself?"

The Canuck just gave his cousin a little half-smile. "Francis, I'm an adult (almost _legally_, too). I think I'll be fine."

"If you're sure, _petit_. . ."

"_Oui_." He nodded. "_Merci_."

Francis ran to his jacket abandoned on the sofa and rushed to the door. "_Je serai de retour avec nos amis stupides vite, mon chou__._"

The Canadian chuckled and waved him goodbye.

The French-born teen bolted across the lawn, thinking tiredly, _Is Gilbo always our source of danger?_

~Time Skip Because Mattie Has a Headache and He Doesn't Want to Deal with Your Crap~

"Aahhh. . . _por qué_ does this always happen to us?" Antonio sighed, exhausted from running four blocks from an enormous, homicidal bald man, four cops, and a very disgruntled grocer.

"I. . ." Francis gulped for air, certainly not used to having to sprint so far or so much. "I blame Gilbo. . ."

"_Kesesese~_!" the albino cackled as if fleeing from angered strangers was just commonplace for him. "I resent that, _Freunde_!" Then he thought about it a moment. . . "No wait, yeah, it's probably all true. _Kesese~_!"

"_Oh, estúpido __idiota_!" Antonio called after his friend skipping along ten feet in front of him, feeling the need to be snarky to his unapologetic friend.

"_Imbécile. . . . . __stupide!_" The Frenchman agreed, still out-of-breath.

"_Kesesesesese~_!" The Prussian chortled in amusement. He soon realized the three had been nearing his Birdie's house without even knowing it. "_Komm_! Let's keep on going, kiddies! Almost there, almost there!"

Francis looked up from his hunched-over position, hands on his knees, and smiled at his friend. "_Je vous déteste_~"

The Prussian rolled his eyes. "Ja, I know, I know! Well, come along then! We have a cute little Birdie waiting for us!"

Soon enough, the Trio arrived at the light yellow painted house, Gilbert was happy to his his short Canuck, Spain was a bit curious as to how the blond was handling his first hangover, and Francis was suspicious as all hell.

The French-born teen leaned his arm against the door, successfully preventing them from entering. He glared at the albino warily. "Gilbert. . ." he began, voice dangerous. "You know how much I love _mon adorable_ Matthieu, _oui_?" Gilbert nodded slowly, suddenly aware of his friend's serious tone — Francis had only used it a handful of time in the many years he'd known him. "So if you flirt with or ask _mon petit_ on a date," he wore a cheerful smile. "I will cut off your precious 'five meters' with a spork~"

Gilbert gulped, paling (well, as much as he could being albino), and nodded vigorously as he covered his awesome five meters.

"_F__antástico_!" Antonio cheered, half not having paid attention to the threat and half not reading the atmosphere. "Shall we go in now?"

Francis was instantly gleeful again and agreed "_Oui_! Let us go!" and opened the door to let them all in.

Meanwhile, the albino hung back a moment. "_O gott_, Birdie! Your family is _verrückt_!" then proceeded to walk in. He was immediately greeted with the _unvergleichlichen_ scent of the sweetest, most incredible heaven-food in existence. Gilbert ran directly into the kitchen where he promptly hollered "_Hey Birdie you making me pancakes?!_"

He watched the thin Canadian flinch, then weakly smile. "Y-yeah, I am. Would you like some?" he practically whispered.

Gilbert suddenly remembered how Birdie had a serious handover then winced a bit. "Ah, sorry, Birdie. . ."

Matthew just smiled. "It's all right, Gil. Here, the pancakes are ready." He handed out a plate of pancakes to each member of the BTT, grinning sweetly.

Antonio just looked around oddly at the table. "Why did you not set out grape jelly?"

The Canadian cocked his head. "You eat grape jelly with maple syrup on your pancakes? That seems interesting. . ."

It was the Spaniard's turn to look confused. "'Maple. . . syrup'? ¿Qué es eso?"

While Matthew didn't speak Spanish, he at least understood the word "what".

The Prussian was sure his little friend's violet eyes were going to bug out of his head.

"W—what?" He weakly said. "I. . . _what?_" He finally exploded, hands waving frantically. "You don't know what maple syrup is!?" He then proceeded to give a ten-minute explanation on the wonders of REAL CANADIAN maple syrup.

By the end of his mini-rant, he finally noticed that the trio was quietly snickering into their hands and he flushed brightly in embarrassment. Wordlessly the Canadian shuffled back over to the stove, where he continued making the pancakes. (He did not realize it, but Matthew actually got more emotional with a hangover.) He felt himself tear up a tiny bit, a little ashamed that he had tried to explain something he felt so passionate about and got himself laughed at. He quickly shook the wetness away and chastised himself for letting him get himself emotional about it.

Without warning, two tanned arms wrapped around his shoulders. "_Lo siento, chico_." Matthew could practically hear the grin. "I did not mean to offend you, I just thought you looked so _lindo_ I couldn't help it~!"

Matthew smirked a bit. "It's alright, Antonio, it's fine."

"Aaaah, don't call me Antonio! We're friends, _chico_! Call me Toni~!"

The Canuck smiled happily. "A-alright. . . Toni."

"Ah, _sí_!" Anto— _Toni_ suddenly picked the smaller blond up and spun him around, grinning merrily. Matthew laughed as the Spaniard twirled them two in circles, despite feeling dizzy.

"A-ah, put me down, please!" he giggled.

Toni soon let the poor Canadian on the floor, where the shorter of the two noticed someone missing. "Hey Francis?"

"Hmm?" The Frenchman looked up, delicately eating his pancakes.

"Ah, where did Gil go?"

He waved his hand nonchalantly. "He said that he remembered he had something to take care of. . . Let's not worry about him, oui? Gilbo probably just had to go home to feed his bird, or something."

"O-oh, Gil has a pet bird?" Matthew asked curiously.

The two teens gaped at him. "What?" Francis asked in disbelief. "You mean Gilly hasn't mentioned his bird to you every six seconds?"

"Um. . ." Why were they making such a big deal out of it? "No. . .? Why?"

"Gilly loves that bird as much as he loves beer." Toni blurted.

The Canuck's eyebrows raised. Gilbert. . .loved his bird _that much_, but never mentioned it to him? I wonder why. . .?

"Well, er, should we wait for him?"

"Sure," Francis could never stop being surprised by his cousin's thoughtfulness and caring. "shall we watch a movie?"

"What movie?"

"_The Intouchables_ was a _merveilleux_ film~!" Francis enthusiastically praised the French picture.

Whereas Antonio urged them to put on a current favorite of his, _Los últimos días_.

Matthew simply suggested a Disney film. To which they all agreed easily.

And thus, the three sat down and watched Brother Bear.

And cried.

Masculine tears.

* * *

**Lots of translations this chapter... heh...heh...**

**Translations (German):**

**_des Mannes_ - the man's**

**_Nein! Ich bin zu jung und genial zu sterben!_ - No! I'm too young and awesome to die!**

**_Was!?_ - What!?**

**_Freunde _- friends**

**_Komm!_ - Come on!**

**_verrückt_ - crazy**

**_unvergleichlichen_ - incomparable**

**Translations (Spanish):**

**_¡Calma!_ - Calm down!**

**_Lo siento, amigo_ - I'm sorry, friend**

**_disculpe_ - excuse me**

**_pero_ - but**

**_por qué_ - why**

**_Oh, estúpido __idiota!_ - Oh, you stupid idiot!**

**_Fantástico_ - fantastic**

**_¿Qué es eso__?_ - What's that?**

**_Lo siento, chico_ - I'm sorry, kid**

**_lindo_ - cute**

**Translations (French):**

**_Vous sentez-vous mieux, ma chère__?_ - Are you feeling any better, dearest?**

**_Je t'adore, __mon chéri._ - I adore you, darling.**

**_Je vous remercie, mon cousin. Je t'aime aussi__._ - Thank you, cousin. I love you too.**

**_relatif_ - relative**

**_Qui __est-il?_ - Who is it?**

**_Je serai de retour avec nos amis stupides vite, mon chou__._ - I shall be back with our stupid friends quickly, my cabbage. ("_mon chou_" is a term of endearment, Francis is not just calling Matthew a vegetable for fun)**

**_Imbécile __stupide!_ - Stupid idiot!**

**_Je vous déteste_ - I hate you**

**_mon adorable_ - my adorable**

**Feel free to roast me alive, it's been over a month since I updated... -ugly sobbing-**

**ANYWAYS~~~**

**I have the first chapter of a PruCan thing that, depending on if my kids like it, I could leave it as a one-shot, or make it its own series. Rest assured, I would not be abandoning my baby DWI (that looks like the name Dwight... I am calling this fic Dwight now), the only thing would be that I would need a little more for each to update (NOT A WHOLE MONTH+, OKAY?) and they couldn't be updated at the same time. Sound alright? This is the crappy synopsis:**

When Canadian Matthew Williams was born, he was blessed with the gift of "Love". Now anyone or anything is helpless against the desire to love, stalk, molest, etc. poor Matthew. Stupid mischievous faeries. Other than his polar bear, Matthew pushes everyone, including his own family, away in fear. But what about when someone different wants to get closer? And what makes him so special?

**It would be a PruCan fic (YESS! FINALLY!), as well. I shall probably upload it either tomorrow or next Saturday, depending.**

**Tell me what you think, prease~**

**Also, it seems that a few kids don't believe me when I saw this is a FRIENDSHIP fic. Let me nicely explain. Of course Gilbert thinks Matthew is cute! If you were just friends with our dear Canadian, you would still think he's adorable, wouldn't you? Also, Gilbert has no sense of personal space. He has no problem with sitting on top of any one of his friends, including Mattie, and be totally fine with it. _Ja_? _Ja_.**

**Alrighty then, hope ya liked this chapter, my precious child~!**

**_I see reviews~ and they open up my eyes _**  
**_I see reviews~ _**  
**_Writing's demanding without understanding~_**  
**_I see reviews~ and they make it worth it all~_**  
**_I see reviews~_**

**Until next time~**

**~Ginge**


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